
Class _3-Cilo___ 

Book.. JA1_V.TE. 

Copyright}!^ 

COPYRSGHT DEPOSm 




LA GRANDE MADEMOISELLE 

FROM A STEEL ENGRAVING 



LA GRANDE 
MADEMOISELLE 

1627-1652 



BY 

ARVEDE BARINE 



AUTHORISED ENGLISH VERSION BY 

HELEN E. MEYER 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 
XLbc 'EtmcUcvhochcv press 

iC,C2 






THE i_!BftAft> OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two CvWlt^ fSL.OfemSl.' 

1^1 ov, g^ y^o? 

CLASS (X>XXr No. 

corvg, 



Copyright, 1902 

BY 

G. p. PUTNAM'S SONS 



Published, November, 1902 



Ube TRnicReibocfter (Pre0s, mew ]Oorfe 



PREFACE 

La Grande Mademoiselle was one of the most 
original persons of her epoch, though it cannot 
be said that she was ever of the first order. Hers 
was but a small genius ; there was nothing extra- 
ordinary in her character ; and she had too little 
influence over events to have made it worth while 
to devote a whole volume to her history — much 
less to prepare for her a second chronicle — had 
she not been an adventurous and picturesque prin- 
cess, a proud, erect figure standing in the front 
rank of the important personages whom Emerson 
called " representative." 

Mademoiselle's agfitated existence was a marvel- 
lous commentary on the profound transformation 
accomplished in the mind of France toward the 
close of the seventeenth century, — a transforma- 
tion whose natural reaction changed the being of 
France. 

I have tried to depict this change, whose traces 
are often hidden by the rapid progress of historical 
events, because it was neither the most salient 
feature of the closing century nor the result of a 
revolution. 

Essential, of the spirit, it passed in the depths 
of the eager souls of the people of those tormented 



iv Preface 

days. Such changes are analogous to the changes 
in the light of the earthly seasons. From day to 
day, marking dates which vary with the advancing 
years, the intense light of summer gives place to 
the wan light of autumn. So the landscape is per- 
petually renewed by the recurring influences of 
natural revolution ; in like manner, the moral at- 
mosphere of France was changed and recharged 
with the principles of life in the new birth ; and 
when the long civil labour of the Fronde was ended, 
the nation's mind had received a new and oppo- 
site impulsion, the casual daily event wore a new 
aspect, the sons viewed things in a light unknown 
to their fathers, and even to the fathers the ap- 
pearance of things had changed. Their thoughts, 
their feelings, their whole moral being had 
changed. 

It is the gradual progress of this transformation 
that I have attempted to show the reader. I know 
that my enterprise is ambitious ; it would have been 
beyond my strength had I had nothing to refer to 
but the Archives and the various collections of per- 
sonal memoirs. But two great poets have been 
my guides, Corneille and Racine, both faithful in- 
terpreters of the thoughts and the feelings of their 
contemporaries ; and they have madd clear the 
contrast between the two distinct social epochs — 
between the old and the new bodies, so different, 
yet so closely connected. 

When the Christian pessimism of Racine had — 
in the words of Jules Lemaitre — succeeded the 



Preface v 

stoical optimism of Corneille, all the conditions 
evolving their diverse lines of thought had changed. 

The nature of La Grande Mademoiselle was 
exemplified in the moral revolution which gave us 
PlUdre thirty-four years (the space of a generation) 
after the apparition of Pauline. 

In the first part of her life, — the part depicted 
in this volume, — Mademoiselle was as true a type 
of the heroines of Corneille as any of her contem- 
poraries. Not one of the great ladies of her world 
had a more ungovernable thirst for grandeur ; not 
one of them cherished more superb scorn for the 
baser passions, among which Mademoiselle classed 
the tender sentiment of love. But, like all the 
others, she was forced to renounce her ideals ; and 
not in her callow youth, when such a thing would 
have been natural, but when she was growing old, 
was she carried away by the torrent of the new 
thought, whose echoes we have caught through 
Racine. 

The limited but intimately detailed and some- 
what sentimental history of Mademoiselle is the 
history of France when Louis XI IL was old, and 
when young Louis — Louis XIV. — was a minor, 
living the happiest years of all his life. 

If I seem presumptuous, let my intention be my 
excuse for so long soliciting the attention of my 
reader in favour of La Grande Mademoiselle. 



ERRATA. 

Page 83, ninth line from top, read de Lormes/^r 

de Lorme. 
Page 272, fifth hne from bottom, dele hypnotic. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 

PAGE 

I. Gaston d'Orleans — His Marriage — His Character — II, Birth of 
Mademoiselle — III. The Tuileries in 1627 — The Retinue of 
a Princess — IV. Contemporary Opinions of Education — The 
Education of Boys — V. The Education of Girls— VI. Made- 
moiselle's Childhood — Divisions of the Royal Family . I-80 

CHAPTER II 

I. Anne of Austria and Richelieu — Birth of Louis XIV. — II. 
L'Astree and its Influence — III. Transformation of the Public 
Manners — The Creation of the Salon — The Hotel de Ram- 
bouillet and Men of Letters 81-153 

CHAPTER III 

I. The Earliest Influences of the Theatre — II. Mademoiselle and 
the School of Corneille — III. Marriage Projects — IV. The 
Cinq-Mars Affair — Close of the Reign .... 154-236 

CHAPTER IV 

I. The Regency — The Romance of Anne of Austria and Mazarin — 
Gaston's Second Wife — II. Mademoiselle's New Marriage 
Projects — III. Mademoiselle Would Be a Carmelite Nun — The 
Catholic Renaissance under Louis XIII. and the Regency — IV. 
Women Enter Politics — The Rivalry of the Two Junior 
Branches of the House of France — Continuation of the Royal 
Romance 237-327 



viii Contents 

CHAPTER V 

PAGE 

I. The Beginning of Trouble — Paris and the Parisians in 1648 — II, 
The Parliamentary Fronde — Mademoiselle Would Be Queen of 
France — III. The Fronde of the Princes and the Union of 
the Frondes — Projects for an Alliance with Conde — IV. La 
Grande Mademoiselle's Heroic Period — The Capture of Orleans 
— The Combat in the Faubourg Saint Antoine — The End of the 
Fronde — Exile 328-436 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



La Grande Mademoiselle . . Frontispiece 

From a steel engraving. 

Marie de Medicis 6 

From a steel engraving. 

The Chateau of Versailles from the Terrace . 8 

After the painting by J. Rigaud. 

The Tuileries from the Seine in the i6th Century 22 

From a contemporary print. 

Madame de Sevigne . . . . . . .541 

From an engraving of the painting by Muntz. 

Cardinal Richelieu . . . . . . .84 

The Abbey of St. Germain Des-pres in the i6th 

Century . . . . . . . .110 

From an old print. 

Louis XIII. , King of France and of Navarre . 152 
From an old print. 

CORNEILLE ......... 168 

From an engraving of the painting by Lebrun. 

Racine ......... 182 

From a steel engraving. 

The Hotel de Richelieu in the 17TH Century . 204 

From a contemporary print. 

A Game of Chance in the 17TH Century . . 210 
From an engraving by Sebastien Leclerc. 

Marquis de Cinq-Mars „ 212 



X 



Illustrations 



17TH 



Anne of Austria .... 

View of the Louvre from the Seine in the 
Century ..... 

From an old print. 

Henriette, Duchesse d'Orleans 
From a steel engraving, 

St. Vincent De Paul 

From a steel engraving. 

Duchesse de Chevreuse 

Cardinal Mazarin .... 

Mademoiselle de Montpensier 
From a steel engraving. 

The Tower of Nesle 

From a contemporary print. 

Cardinal de Retz .... 

Madame de la Valliere . 
From a steel engraving. 

ViCOMTE DE TURENNE 

View of the Luxembourg (Later Called the Palais 
d'Orleans) in the 17TH Century 

From an old print. 

La Rochefoucauld .... 

From a steel engraving. 

Prince de Conde .... 
Due d'Orleans 



PAGE 

258 
292 

320 
342 

344 
366 

398 

410 

416 

420 
422 



LA GRANDE MADEMOISELLE 



THE YOUTH OF LA GRANDE 
MADEMOISELLE 



CHAPTER I 

I. Gaston d'Orleans — His Marriage — His Character — II. Birth of 
Mademoiselle — III. The Tuileries in 1627 — The Retinue of a 
Princess — IV. Contemporary Opinions of Education — The Educa- 
tion of Boys — V. The Education of Girls — VI. Mademoiselle's 
Childhood — Divisions of the Royal Family. 

IN the Chateau of Versailles there is a full-length 
portrait of La Grande Mademoiselle, — so called 
because of her tall stature, — daughter of Gaston 
d'Orleans, and niece of Louis XI I L When the 
portrait was painted, the Princess's hair was turning 
grey. She was forty-five years old. Her imperious 
attitude and warlike mien befit the manners of the 
time of her youth, as they befit her Amazonian 
exploits in the days of the Fronde. 

Her lofty bearing well accords with the adven- 
tures of the illustrious girl whom the customs and 
the life of her day, the plays of Corneille, and the 
novels of La Calprenede and of Scudery imbued with 
sentiments much too pompous. The painter of the 
portrait had seen Mademoiselle as we have seen 



2 The Youth of 

her in her own memoirs and in the memoirs of her 
companions. 

Nature had fitted her to play the part of the 
goddess in exile ; and it had been her good for- 
tune to find suitable employment for faculties 
which would have been obstacles in an ordinary 
life. To become the Minerva of Versailles, 
Mademoiselle had to do nothing but yield to 
circumstances and to float onward, borne by the 
current of events. 

In the portrait, under the tinselled trappings 
the deep eyes look out gravely, earnestly ; the 
thoughtful face is naively proud of its borrowed 
divinity ; and just as she was pictured — serious, 
exalted in her assured dignity, convinced of her 
own high calling — she lived her life to its end, too 
proud to know that hers was the fashion of a by- 
gone age, too sure of her own position to note the 
smiles provoked by her appearance. She ignored 
the fact that she had denied her pretensions by her 
own act (her romance with Lauzun, — an episode by 
far too bourgeois for the character of an Olympian 
goddess). She had given the lie to her assump- 
tion of divinity, but throughout the period of her 
romance she bore aloft her standard, and when it 
was all over she came forth unchanged, still vested 
with her classic dignity. The old Princess, who 
excited the ridicule of the younger generation, was, 
to the few surviving companions of her early years, 
the living evocation of the past. To them she 
bore the ineffaceable impression of the thought, the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 3 

feeling, the inspiration, the soul of France, as they 
had known it under Richelieu and Mazarin. 

The influences that made the tall daughter of 
Gaston d'Orleans a romantic sentimentalist long 
before sentimental romanticism held any place in 
France, ruled the destinies of French society at 
large ; and because of this fact, because the same 
influences that directed the illustrious daughter of 
France shaped the course of the whole French 
nation, the solitary figure — though it was never of 
a high moral order — is worthy of attention. La 
Grande Mademoiselle is the radiant point whose 
light illumines the shadows of the past in which 
she lived. 



Anne-Marie-Louise d'Orleans, Duchess of Mont- 
pensier, was the daughter of Gaston of France, 
younger brother of King Louis XIII., and of a 
distant cousin of the royal family, Marie of Bour- 
bon, Duchess of Montpensier. It would be impos- 
sible for a child to be less like her parents than was 
La Grande Mademoiselle. Her mother was a beau- 
tiful blond personage with the mild face of a sheep, 
and with a character well fitted to her face. She 
was very sweet and very tractable. Mademoi- 
selle's father resembled the decadents of our own 
day. He was a man of sickly nerves, vacillating, 
weak of purpose, with a will like wax, who formed 
day-dreams in which he figured as a gallant and 
warlike knight, always on the alert, always the 



4 The Youth of 

omnipotent hero of singularly heroic exploits. He 
deluded himself with the idea that he was a real 
prince, a typical Crusader of the ancient days. In 
his chaotic fancy he raised altar against altar, burn- 
ing incense before his purely personal and pecul- 
iar gods, taking principalities by assault, bringing 
the kings and all the powers of the earth into sub- 
jection, bearing down upon them with his might, 
and shifting them like the puppets of a chess-board. 
His efforts to attain the heights pictured by his 
imagination resulted in awkward gambols through 
which he lost his balance and fell, crushed by the 
weight of his own folly. Thus his life was a series 
of ludicrous but tragic burlesques. 

In the seventeenth century, in flesh and blood, he 
was the Prince whom modern writers set in prom- 
inent places in romance, and whom they introduce 
to the public, deluded by the thought that he is the 
creature of their invention. Louis XIII. was a liv- 
ing and pitiable anachronism. He had inherited all 
the traditions of his rude ancestors. Yet, to meet 
the requirements of his situation, nature had ac- 
coutred him for active service with nothinof but an 
enervated and unbalanced character. One of his 
most odious infamies — his first — served as a pro- 
logue to the birth of "Tall Mademoiselle." In 
1626, as Louis XIII. had no child, his brother 
Gaston was heir-presumptive to the throne, and 
he was a bachelor. They who had some interest 
in the question were pushing him from all sides, 
urging him not to fetter himself by the inferior 



La Grande Mademoiselle 5 

marriage of a younger son. They implored him to 
have patience ; to '* wait a while " ; to see if there 
would not be some unlooked-for opening for him 
in the near future. His own apparent future was 
promising ; there was much encouragement in the 
fact that the King was sickly. What might not a 
day bring forth? — "under such conditions great 
changes were possible ! " 

Monsieur's mind laid a tenacious grasp on the 
idea that he must either marry a royal princess, or 
none at all ; and he was so imbued with the thought 
that he must remain free to attain supreme heights 
that when Marie de Medicis proposed to him a 
marriage with the richest heiress of France, Mile, 
de Montpensier, he tried to evade her offer. He 
encouraged Chalais's conspiracy, which was to be 
the means of helping him to effect his flight from 
Court ; he permitted his friends to compromise 
themselves, then without a shadow of hesitation 
he sold them all. When the plot had been ex- 
posed, he hastily withdrew his irons from the fire 
by reporting everything to Richelieu and the Queen- 
mother. His friends tried to excuse him by saying 
that he had lost his head ; but it was not true. His 
avowals as informer are on record in the archives 
of the Department of Foreign Affairs, and they 
prove that he was a man who knew very well what he 
was doing and why he was doing it, who worked 
intelligently and systematically, planning his course 
with matter-of-fact self-possession, selling his treason 
at the highest market-price of such commodities. 



6 The Youth of 

The 1 2th July, 1626, Monsieur denounced thirty 
of his friends, or servitors, whose only fault had 
lain in their devotion to his interests. 

Once when Marie de Medicis reproached him 
for having failed to keep a certain written promise 
" never to think of anything tending to separate 
him from the King," Monsieur replied calmly that 
he had signed that paper but that he never had said 
that he would not do it, — that he " never had given 
a verbal promise." They then reminded him that 
he had " solemnly sworn several times." The 
young Prince replied with the same serenity, that 
whenever he took an oath, he did it ''with a mental 
reservation." 

The 1 8th, Monsieur, being in a good humour, 
made some strong protestations to his mother, who 
was in her bed. He again took up the thread of his 
denunciations to Richelieu without waiting to be 
invited to give his information. The 23d, he went 
to the Cardinal and told him to say that he, Mon- 
sieur, was ready to marry whenever they pleased, 
" if they would give him his appanage at the time 
of the marriage," — after which announcement he 
remarked that the late M. d' Alengon had had 
three appanages. Monsieur sounded his seas, and 
spied out his land in all directions, carefully 
gathering data and making very minute investi- 
gations as to the King's intentions. He intimated 
his requirements to the Cardinal, who " sent the 
President, Le Coigneux, to talk over his marriage 
and his appanage." 




MARIE DE MEDICS 

FROM A STEEL ENGRAVING 



La Grande Mademoiselle 7 

His haggling and his denunciations alternated 
until August 2d. Finally he obtained the duchies 
of Montpensier and of Chartres, the county of 
Blois, and pecuniary advantages which raised his 
income to the sum of a million livres. His vanity 
was allowed free play on the occasion of the signing 
of the contract, but this was forgiven him because 
he was only eighteen years old. 

Monsieur had eighty French guards, all wearing casques, 
and bandoleers of the fine velvet of his livery. Their helmets 
were loaded, in front and behind, with Monsieur's initials 
enriched with gold. He had, also, twenty-four Swiss guards, 
who marched before him on Sundays and other fete days, with 
drums beating, though the King was still in Paris. He was 
fond of pomp. The lives of his friends did not weigh a 
feather in the balance against a few provinces and a rolling 
drum. 

His guardian, Marshal d'Ornano, was a prisoner 
in Versailles, where the Court was at that time. 
Investigations against him were in rapid progress; 
but the face of the young bridegroom was wreathed 
with smiles when he led his bride to the altar, 5th 
August, 1626. As soon as he had given his con- 
sent they had hastened the marriage. The cere- 
mony took place as best it could. It was marriage 
by the lightning process. There was no music, the 
bridegroom's habit was not new. While the cortege 
was on its way, two of the resplendent duchesses 
quarrelled over some question of precedence. To 
quote the Chronicles : " From words they came to 
blows and from blows to scratches of their skins." 



8 The Youth of 

This event scandalised the pubHc, but the splen- 
dour of the fetes effaced the memory of the regret- 
table incidents preceding them. While the fetes 
were in progress, Monsieur exhibited a gayety which 
astonished the people ; they were not accustomed to 
the open display of such indelicacy. It was known 
why young Chalais had been condemned to death ; 
it was known that Monsieur had vainly demanded 
that he be shown some mercy. When the 19th — 
the day of execution — came, Monsieur saw fit to 
be absent. The youthful Chalais was beheaded by 
a second-rate executioner, who hacked at his neck 
with a dull sword and with an equally dull tool used 
by coopers. When the twentieth blow was struck, 
Chalais was still moaning. The people assembled 
to witness the execution cried out against it. 

Fifteen days later Marshal d'Ornano gave proof 
of his accommodating amiability by dying in his 
prison. Others who had vital interests at stake 
either fled or were exiled. 

Judging from appearances. Monsieur had had 
nothing to do with the condemned or the suspected. 
His callous levity was noted and judged according 
to its quality. Frequently tolerant to an extra- 
ordinary degree, the morality of the times was firm 
enough where the fidelity of man to master, or of 
master to man, was concerned. The common idea 
of decency exacted absolute devotion from the 
soldier to his chief, from servant to employer, from 
the gentleman to his seignior. Nor was the duty 
of master to man less binding. Though his crea- 




SaJ LlJ 




\ UJ 



La Grande Mademoiselle 9 

tures or servants were in the wrong, though their 
failures numbered seventy times seven, it was the 
master's part to uphold, to defend, and to give them 
courage, to stand or to fall with them, as the leader 
stands with his armies. Gaston knew this ; he 
knew that he dishonoured his own name in the 
eyes of France when he delivered to justice the 
men who had worn his colours. But he mocked at 
the idea of honour, shaming it, as those among our 
own sons — if they are unfortunate enough to 
resemble him — mock at the higher and broader 
idea of home and country, — the idea which, in our 
day, takes the place of all other ideas exacting an 
effort or a sacrifice. 

It must not be supposed that Monsieur was an 
ordinary poltroon, bowed down by the weight of his 
shame, desperately feeble, a mawkish and shambling 
type of the effeminate adolescent ; though a coward 
in shirking consequences he was a typical " prince": 
very spirited, very gay, and very brilliant ; conscious 
of the meaning of all his actions ; contented in his 
position, — such as he made it, — and resigned to act 
the part of a coward before the world. 

His vivacity was extraordinary. The people 
marvelled at his unfailing lack of tact. Though 
very young, he was well grown. He was no longer 
a child whose nurse caught him with one hand, 
forcibly buttoning his apron as he struggled to run 
away ; yet he skipped and gambolled, spinning in- 
cessantly on his high heels, his hand thrust into his 
pocket, his cap over his ear. In one way or in 



lo The Youth of 

another he incessantly proclaimed his presence. 
His sarcastic lips were always curved over his white 
teeth ; he was always whistling. 

" One can see well that he is high-born," wrote 
the indulgent Madame de Motteville. " His rest- 
lessness and his grimaces show it." But Madame 
de Motteville was not his only chronicler. Others 
relished his manners less. A gentleman who had 
lived in his (Monsieur's) house when Monsieur was 
very young, saw him again under Mazarin, and 
finding that despite his age and size he was the 
same peculiar being that he had been in infancy, 
the old gentleman turned and ran away. " Well, 
upon my word," he cried, " if he is not the same 
deuced scamp as in the days of Richelieu ! I shall 
not salute him." 

Monsieur's portraits are not calculated to contra- 
dict the impression given by his contemporaries. 
He is a handsome boy. The long oval face is deli- 
cately fine. The eyes are spiritual ; and despite 
its look of self-sufficiency the whole face is infinitely 
charming. One of the portraits shows a certain 
shade of sly keenness, but as a whole the face is 
always indescribably attractive, — and yet as we 
gaze upon it we are seized by an impulse to follow 
the example of the old marquis, and run away with- 
out saluting. In the portrait the base soul looks 
out of the handsome face just as it did in life, mani- 
festing its deplorable reality through its mask of 
natural beauty and intelligence. No one could say 
that Monsieur was a fool. Retz declared : " M. le 



La Grande Mademoiselle ii 

Due d'Orleans had a fine and enlightened mind." 
It was the general impression that his conversation 
was admirable ; judged by his talk he was a being of 
a superior order. His manners and his voice were 
engaging. He was an artist, very fond of pictures 
and rare and handsom.e trifles. He was skilful in 
engraving on metals ; he loved literature ; he loved 
to read ; he was interested in new ideas and in the 
march of thought. He knew many curious sciences. 
He was a cheerful companion, easy-mannered, 
sprightly, easy of approach, fond of raillery, and 
full of his jests, but his jests were never ill-natured. 
Even his enemies were forced to own that he had 
a good disposition, and that he was naturally kind ; 
and this was the general opinion of the strange 
being who was a Judas to so many of his most de- 
voted friends. 

Had Monsieur possessed but one grain of moral 
consciousness, and had he been free from an almost 
inconceivable degree of weakness and of cowardice, 
he would have made a fine Prince Charminof, But 
his poltroonery and his moral debility stained the 
whole fabric of his life and made him a lugubrious 
example of spiritual infirmity. He engaged in all 
sorts of intrigues because he was too weak to say 
No, and owing to the same weakness he never 
honestly fulfilled an engagement. 

At times he started out intending to do his duty, 
then when midway on his route he was seized by 
fear, he took the bit between his teeth, and ran, 
and nothing on earth could stop him. He carried 



12 The Youth of 

out his cowardice with impudence, and his villainy 
was artful and adroit. However base his action, he 
was never troubled by remorse. He was insensible 
to love, and devoid of any sense of honour. Having 
betrayed his associates, he abandoned them to their 
fate, then thrust his hand into his pocket, pirou- 
etted, cut a caper, whistled a tune, and thought no 
more of it. 

II 

The third week in October the Duchess of Or- 
leans returned to Paris, The Court was at the 
Louvre. The young pair, Monsieur and his wife* 
had their apartments in the palace, and the cour- 
tiers were not slow in finding their way to them. 

Hardly had she arrived when Madame declared 
her pregnancy. As there was no direct heir to the 
crown, this event was of great importance. The 
people precipitated themselves toward the happy 
Princess who was about to give birth to a future 
Kine of France. Staid and modest thoup;h she 
was, her own head was turned by her condition. She 
paraded her hopes. It seemed to her that even 
then she held in her arms the son who was to take 
the place of a dauphin. Every one offered her 
prayers and acclamations ; and every one hailed 
Monsieur as if he had been the rising sun.^ 

Monsieur asked nothing better than to play his 
part ; he breathed the incense offered to his bril- 
liant prospects with felicity. 

' M^moires de Gaston. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 13 

Husband and wife enjoyed their importance to 
the full ; they displayed their triumphant faces in 
all parts of that palace that had seen so much bit- 
terness of spirit. 

In itself, politics apart, the Louvre was not a 
very agreeable resting-place. On the side toward 
Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois its aspect was rough 
and gloomy. The remains of the old fortress "of 
Philip Augustus and of Charles V. were still in ex- 
istence. Opposite the Tuileries, towards the Quai, 
the exterior of the palace was elegant and cheer- 
ful. There the Valois and Henry IV. had begun 
to build the Louvre as we know it to-day. 

A discordant combination of extreme refinement 
and of extreme coarseness made the interior of the 
palace one of the noisiest and dirtiest places in the 
world. The entrance to the palace of the King of 
France was like the entrance to a mill ; a tumultu- 
ous crowd filled the palace from morning until 
night ; and it was the custom of the day for indi- 
viduals to be perfectly at ease in public, — no one 
stood on ceremony. The ebbing and flowing tide 
of courtiers, of business men, of countrymen, of 
tradesmen, and all the throngs of valets and under- 
lings considered the stairways, the balconies, the 
corridors, and the places behind the doors, retreats 
propitious for the relief of nature. 

It was a system, an immemorial servitude, exist- 
ing in Vincennes and Fontainebleau as at the 
Louvre, — a system that was not abolished without 
great difficulty. In a document dated posterior to 



14 The Youth of 

1670, mention is made of the thousand masses of 
all uncleanness, and the thousand insupportable 
stenches, "which made the Louvre a hot-bed of in- 
fection, very dangerous in time of epidemic." The 
great ones of earth accepted such discrepancies as 
fatalities ; they contented themselves with ordering 
a sweep of the broom. 

Neither Gaston nor the Princess, his wife, de- 
scended to the level of their critical surroundings. 
They were habituated to the peculiar features of 
the royal palaces ; and certainly that year, in the 
intoxication of their prospects, they must have con- 
sidered the palatial odours very acceptable. 

It did not aofree with their frame of mind to note 
that the always gloomy palace was more than usually 
dismal. Anne of Austria had been struck to the 
heart by the pregnancy of her sister-in-law. She 
had been married twelve years and she no longer 
dared to cherish the hope of an heir. She felt 
that she was sinkinof into oblivion. Her enemies 
had begun to insinuate that her usefulness was at 
an end and that she had no reason for clinging to 
life. The Queen of France lived so eclipsed a life 
that to the world she was nothing but a pretty 
woman with a complexion of milk and roses. The 
people knew that she was unhappy, and they pitied 
her. They never learned her true character until 
she became Regent. Anne of Austria was not the 
only one to drain the cup of bitterness that year. 
Louis XIII. also was jealous of the maternity of 
Madame. It was a part of his nature to cherish 



La Grande Mademoiselle 15 

evil sentiments, and his friends found some excuse 
for his faults in his misfortunes. Since Richelieu 
had attained power, Louis had succumbed to the 
exigencies of monarchical duty. His whole per- 
son betrayed his distress, exhaling constraint and 
anxiety. The most mirthful jester quailed at the 
sight of the long, livid face, so mournful, so expres- 
sive of the mental torment of the Prince who 
" knew that he was hated and who had no fondness 
for himself." 

Louis was timid and prudish, and, like his 
brother, he had sick nerves. Herouard, who was 
his doctor when he was a child, exhibits the young 
Prince as a somnambulist, who slept with eyes open, 
and who arose in his sleep, walking and talking in 
a loud voice. Louis's doctors put an end to any 
strength that he may have had originally. In one 
year Bouvard bled him forty-seven times ; and dur- 
ing that one twelvemonth the child was given 
twelve different kinds of medicines and two hun- 
dred and fifteen enemas. Is it credible that after 
such an experience the unhappy King merited the 
reproach of being " obstreperous in his intercourse 
with the medical faculty " ? 

He had studied but little ; he took no interest in 
the things that pleased the mind ; his pastimes 
were purely animal. He liked to hunt, to work in 
his garden, to net pouches for fish and game, to 
make snares and arquebuses. He liked to make 
preserves, to lard meat, and to shave. Like his 
brother, he had one artistic quality : he loved music 



1 6 The Youth of 

and composed it. " This was the one smile, the 
only smile of a natural ingrate." 

Louis XIII. was of a nature dry and hard. He 
detested his wife ; he loved nothing on earth but 
his young favourites. He loved them ; then, in an 
instant, without warning, he ceased to love them ; 
and when he had ceased to love them he did not 
care what became of them, — did not care whether 
they lived or died. Whenever he could witness 
the agony of death he did so, and turned the occa- 
sion into a picnic or a pleasure trip. He enjoyed 
watching the grimaces of the dying. His religious 
devotion was sincere, but it was narrow and sterile. 
He was jealous and suspicious, forgetful, frivolous, 
incapable of applying himself to anything serious. 

He had but one virtue, but that he carried to 
such lengths that it sufficed to embalm his memory. 
This virtue was the one which raised the family of 
Hohenzollern to power and to glory. The sombre 
soul of Louis XIII. was imbued with the imperi- 
ous sentiment of royal duty, — the professional duty 
of the man designed and appointed by Divine 
Providence to give account to God for millions of 
the souls of other men. He never separated either 
his own advantage or his own glory from the ad- 
vantage and the glory of France. ^He forced his 
brother to marry, though he knew that the birth of 
a nephew would ulcerate his own flesh. He har- 
boured Richelieu with despairing resolution because 
he believed that France could not maintain its ex- 
istence without the hated ministry. He had the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 17 

essential quality, the one quality which supplies 
the lack of other qualities, without which all other 
qualities, great and noble though they be, are use- 
less before the State. 

Around these chiefs of the Court buzzed a swarm 
of ambitious rivals and whispering intriguers all 
animated by one purpose, to effect the discomfiture 
of Richelieu. The King's health was failing. The 
Cardinal knew that Louis "had not two days to live"; 
he was seen daily, steadily advancing toward the 
grave. In Michelet's writings there is a striking 
page devoted to the "great man of business wast- 
ing his time and strength struggling against I do 
not know how many insects which have stung him." 
Marie de Medicis was the only one who united 
with the King in defending Richelieu in the critical 
winter of 1626. The Cardinal was the Queen's 
creature. The pair had many memories in com- 
mon — and of more than one kind. Some years 
previous Richelieu had taken the trouble to play 
lover to the portly quadragenarian, and he had 
brought to bear upon his effort all the courage 
requisite for such a suit. The Court of France 
had looked on while the Cardinal took lessons in 
lute playing, because the Queen-mother, notwith- 
standing her age and her proportions, had had a 
fancy to play the lute as she had done when a little 
girl. Marie de Medicis had given proof that she 
was not insensible to such delicate attentions, and 
she had foro-otten nothincr ; but the moment was 
approaching when Richelieu would find that it had 



1 8 The Youth of 

been to no purpose that he had shouldered the 
ridicule of France by sighing out his music at 
the feet of the fat Queen. 

That year a stranger would have said that the 
Court of France had never been more gay. Fete 
followed fete. In the winter there were two grand 
ballets at the Louvre, danced by the flower of the 
nobility, the King at their head. Louis XI IL 
adored such exhibitions, though they overthrow 
all modern ideas of a royal majesty. 

The previous winter he had invited the Bour- 
geoisie of Paris to the H6tel-de-Ville to contem- 
plate their ghastly monarch masked for the carnival, 
dd.ncmgh.\s gi^and pas. ''It is my wish,''' said he, 
''to confer honour upon the city by this action^'' 
The Bourgeoisie had accepted the invitation ; man 
and wife had flocked to the appointed place at the 
appointed hour, and there they had waited from 
four o'clock in the afternoon until five o'clock in 
the morning, before the royal dancers had made 
their appearance. The dance had not ended until 
noon, when the honoured Bourgeoisie had returned 
to their homes. 

Monsieur took his full share of all official pleas- 
ures, and he had also some pleasures of his own, — 
and purely personal they were. Some of them 
were infantine ; some of them, marked by intelli- 
gence, were far in advance of the ideas of that 
epoch. Contemporary customs demanded that 
people of the world should relegate their serious 
affairs to the tender mercies of the professional 



La Grande Mademoiselle 19 

keen wits, who made it their business to attend 
to such questions. Gaston used to convene the 
chosen of his lords and gentlemen, to argue sub- 
jects of moral and political import. In discus- 
sion Monsieur bore himself very gallantly. The 
resources of his wit were inexhaustible, and the 
justice of his judgment invariably evoked applause. 
He was a sleep-walker, because awake or asleep he 
was so restless that " he could not stay long in one 
place." ^ But he was not always asleep when he 
was met in the night groping his way through the 
noisome alleys. He used to jump from his bed, 
disguise himself, and run about in the night, lead- 
ing a life like that of the wretched Gerard de Ner- 
val, lounging on foot through the little streets of 
Paris which were very dark and suspiciously dirty. 
It amused him to enter strange houses and invite 
himself to balls and other assemblies. His be- 
haviour in such places is not recorded, but the 
gentlemen who followed him (to protect him) let 
it be understood that there was " nothing good 
m It. 

Gaston of Orleans had all the traits common to 
those whom we call " degenerate." His chief char- 
acteristic was an active form of bare and shameless 
moral relaxation. He was the mainspring of many 
and various movements. 

One day when Richelieu was present, Louis XIII. 
twitted the Queen with her fancies. He said that 
she had " wished to preverU; Monsieur from marry- 

' Memoires de Gaston. 



20 The Youth of 

ing so that she could marry him herself when she 
became a widow." 

Anne of Austria cried out : " I should not have 
gained much by the change ! " 

(Neither would France have " gained much by 
the change," and it was fortunate for her that Louis 
was permitted to retain possession of his feeble 
rights.) 

The child so desired by some, so envied and so 
dreaded by others, entered the world May 29, 1627. 
Instead of a dauphin it was a girl — La Grafide 
Mademoiselle. Seven days after the child was 
born the mother died. 

Louis XIII. gave orders for the provision of 
royal obsequies, and he himself sprinkled the bier 
with the blessed water, very grateful because Provi- 
dence had not endowed him with a nephew. Anne 
of Austria, incognito, assisted at the funeral pomps. 
This act was received with various interpretations. 
The simple — the innocent-minded — said that it 
was a proof of the compassion inspired by Madame's 
sudden taking off ; the malicious supposed that it 
was just as the King had said : " The Queen loved 
Monsieur ; she rejoiced in his wife's death ; she 
hoped to marry him when she became a widow." 

The Queen was sincerely afflicted by ^Madame's 
death. She cherished an open preference for her 
second son, and the thought of his ambitious flight 
had agreeably caressed her heart. 

Richelieu pronounce4 a few suitable words of 
regret for the Princess who had never meddled 



La Grande Mademoiselle 21 

with politics, and Monsieur did just what he might 
have been expected to do : he wept boisterously, 
immediately dried his tears, and plunged into 
debauchery. 

The Court executed the regulation manoeuvres, 
and came to the " about face " demanded by the 
circumstances. Whatever may have been the cal- 
culations made by individuals relative to the posi- 
tions to be taken in order to secure the best personal 
results, and whatever the secret opinions may 
have been (as to the advantages to be drawn from 
the catastrophe), it was generally conceded that 
the little Duchess had been fortunate in being left 
sole possessor of the vast fortune of the late 
Madame her mother. 

The latter had brought as marriage-portion the 
dominion of Dombes, the principality of Roche- 
sur-Yon, the duchies of Montpensier, Chateller- 
ault, and Saint-Fargeau, with several other fine 
tracts of territory bearing the titles of marquisates, 
counties, viscounties, and baronies, with very im- 
portant incomes from pensions granted by the 
King and by several private individuals, — in all 
amounting to three hundred thousand livres of 
income.* 

The child succeeding to this immense inherit- 
ance was the richest heiress in Europe. As her 
mother had been before her, so Mademoiselle was 
raised in all the magnificence and luxury befitting 
her rank and fortune. 

' Memoir es de Gaston. 



22 The Youth of 

III 

They had brought her from the Louvre to the 
Tuileries by the balustraded terrace along the 
Seine. ^ 

She was lodged in the Dome — known to the old 
Parisians as the pavilion d'Horloge — and in the 
two wings of the adjoining buildings. At that 
time the Tuileries had not assumed the aspect of a 
great barrack. They wore a look of elegance and 
fantastic grace before they were remodelled and 
aligned by rule. At its four corners the Dome 
bore four pretty little towers ; on the side toward 
the garden was a projecting portico surmounted 
by a terrace enclosed by a gallery. On this ter- 
race, in time, Mademoiselle and her ladies listened 
to many a serenade and looked down on many 
a riot. 

The rest of the fa9ade (as far as the pavilion 
de Flore^ formed a succession of angles, now jut- 
ting forward, now receding, in conformations very 
pleasing to the eye. The opposite wing and the 
pavilion de Marsan had not been built. Close at 
hand lay an almost unbroken country. The rear 
of the palace looked out upon a parterre ; beyond 
the parterre lay a chaos from which the Carrousel 
was not wholly delivered until the Secohd Empire. 
There stood the famous Hotel de Rambouillet, 
close to the hotel of Madame de Chevreuse, con- 
fidential friend of Anne of Austria and interested 
enemy of Richelieu. There were other hotels, 

■ Me'fnoires de Mademoiselle de Montpensier. 




o 2 



La Grande Mademoiselle 23 

entangled with churches, with a hospital, a " Court 
of Miracles," gardens, and wild lands overgrown 
with weeds and grasses. There were shops and 
stables ; and away at the far end of the settlement 
stood the Louvre, closing the perspective. 

The Court and the city crowded together around 
the Bird House and the Swans' Pond, in the Deda- 
lus and before the Echo, ogling or criticising one 
another. At that time the Place de la Concorde 
was a great, green field, called the Rabbit Warren. 
In one part of the field stood the King's kennels.^ 
The city's limits separated the Champs-Elysees 
from the wild lands running down to the Seine at 
the point where the Pont de la Concorde now 
stands. This space, enclosed by the boundaries of 
the city, assured to the Court a park-like retreat in 
the green fields of the open country. The enclosure 
was entered by the gate of the Conference. The 
celebrated " Garden of Renard " was associated 
with Mademoiselle's first memories. It had been 
taken from that part of La Garenite which lay 
between the gate of the Conference ^ and the 
Garden of the Tuileries. Renard had been valet- 
de-chambre to a noble house. He was witty, 
pliable, complaisant to the wishes or the fancied 
needs of his employers, amiable, and of "easy, ac- 
commodating manners"^; in short, he was a 

' Sauval (1620-1670), Histoire et recherches sur les antiquity de Paris. 

"^ The gate of the "Conference" was built at the time the great im- 
provements were begun, in 1633. It was built after the grand plans of 
Cardinal de Richelieu and according to his own instructions (Gamboust). 

^ Piganiol de la P^orce (1673-1753), Description of the City of Paris, etc. 



24 The Youth of 

precursor of the Scapins and the Mascarelles of 
MoHere. Mazarin found pleasure and profit in 
talking with him. Renard's garden was a bower of 
delights. It was the preferred trysting-place of the 
lordlings of the Court, and the scene of all things 
gallant in that gallant day. 

The fair ladies of the Court frequented the place ; 
so did the crowned queens ; and there many an 
amorous knot was tied, and many a plot laid for 
the fall of many a minister. 

There the men of the day gave dinners, and 
rolled under the table at dessert ; and in the bosky 
glades of the garden the ladies offered their colla- 
tions. There were balls, comedies, concerts, and 
serenades in the groves, and all the gay world met 
there to hear the news and to discuss it. Renard 
was the man of the hour, no one could live without 
him. 

The Cours la Reine, created by Marie de Medicis, 
was outside of Paris. It was a broad path, fifteen 
hundred and forty common steps long, with a 
*' round square," or ro7id-point, in its centre. In 
that sheltered path, the fine world, good and bad, 
displayed its toilets and its equipages. 

Mile, de Scudery has given us a description of it 
at the hour when it was most frequented. Two 
of her characters entered Paris by the village of 
Chaillot. 

Coming into the city, where Hermogene led Belesis, one 
finds beside the beautiful river four great alleys, so broad, so 
straight, and so shaded by the great trees which form them, 



La Grande Mademoiselle 25 

that one could not imagine a more agreeable promenade. 
And this is the place where all the ladies come in the evening 
in little open chariots, and where all the men follow them on 
horseback ; so that having liberty to approach either one or 
the other, or all of them, as they go up and down the paths 
they all promenade and talk together ; and this is doubtless 
very diverting. 

Hermogene and Belesis having penetrated into 
the Cours, 

they saw the great alleys full of little chariots, all painted and 
gilded ; sitting in the chariots were the most beautiful ladies 
of Suze (Paris), and near the ladies were infinite numbers of 
gentlemen of quality, admirably well mounted and magnifi- 
cently dressed, going and coming, saluting as they passed. 

In the summer they lingered late in the Cours la 
Reine, and ended the evening at Renard's. Marie 
de Medicis and Anne of Austria were rarely absent. 

Close by the Champs-Elysees lay a forest, through 
which the huntsman passed to hunt the wolf in the 
dense woods of the Bois de Boulogne. In the dis- 
tance could be seen the village of Chaillot, perched 
on a height amidst fields and vines. Market gar- 
dens covered the quarters of Ville I'Eveque and the 
Chaussee d'Antin. 

Mademoiselle was installed with royal magnifi- 
cence at the Tuileries. In her own words : " They 
made my house, and they gave me an equipage 
much grander than any daughter of France had 
ever had." 

Thirty years later she was still happily sur- 
rounded by the retinue provided by her far-seeing 



26 The Youth of 

guardians. Her servitors were of every grade, from 
the lowest, who prepared a pathway for her feet, to 
the highest, whose service added dignity to her 
presence. By investing her with her nucleus of 
domestic tributaries, her friends had established her 
importance, even in her infancy, by manifestations 
that could not be disputed. In that day people 
were obliged to attach importance to such details. 
But a short time had passed since brutal force had 
been the only recognised right ; and it was the way 
of the world to judge the grandeur of a prince by the 
lenofth and volume of his train. It was because La 
Grande Mademoiselle had, from earliest youth, 
possessed an army of squires, of courtiers, of valets, 
and of serving-men and serving-women — a horde 
beginning with the fine milord and ending with 
the hare-faced scullion, seen now and then in 
some shadowy retreat of the palace, low-browed, 
down-trodden, looking out with dazzled eyes upon 
the world of life and luxury, — it was because she 
had been a ruler even in her swaddling bands, that 
she could aspire, naturally and without overween- 
ing arrogance, to the hands of the most powerful 
sovereigns. " The sons of France," says a docu- 
ment of 1649, " are provided with just such officials 
as surround the King ; but they are les§ numerous, 
. . . The Princes have officers in accordance with 
their revenues and in accordance with the rank that 
they hold in the kingdom."^ 

The same document furnishes us with details of 

' Esiat de la France (Collection Danjou). 



La Grande Mademoiselle 27 

the installation of Anne of Austria. If, when we 
estimate the equipage of Mademoiselle, we reduce 
it by half of the estimate of the Queen's equipage, 
we fall short of the reality. Like an army in cam- 
paign, a Court ought to be sufficient unto itself, 
able to meet all its requirements. The upper do- 
mestic retinue of the Queen comprised more than 
one hundred persons, maitres-d' hotel or stewards, 
cup-bearers, carvers, secretaries, physicians, sur- 
geons, oculists, musicians, squires, almoners, nine 
chaplains, " her confessor," a common confessor, 
and too many other kinds of employees to be enu- 
merated. Under all these officials, each one of 
whom had his own especial underlings, were equal 
numbers of valets and of chambermaids who assured 
the service of the apartments. The Court cook- 
ing kept busy one hundred and fifty-nine drilled 
knife-sharpeners, soup-skimmers, roast-hasteners, 
and water-handers, or people to hand water as the 
cooks needed it for their mixtures. There were 
other servitors whose business it was to await the 
beck and call of their superiors, — call-boys, always 
waiting for signals. Then came the busy world of 
the stables ; then fifty merchants or shop-men, and 
an indefinite number of artisans of all the orders of 
all the trades. In all there were between six and 
seven hundred souls, not counting the valets of the 
valets or the grand " charges^'' the officials close to 
the Queen, the Queen's chancellor, the chevaliers 
d'honneur, or gentlemen-in-waiting, the ladies-in- 
waiting, and maids of honour. 



28 The Youth of 

The great and noble people were often very badly 
served by their hordes of servants. Madame de 
Motteville tells us how the ladies of the Court of 
Anne of Austria were nourished in the peaceful 
year 1644, when the Court coffers were yet full. 

According to the law of etiquette, the Queen supped in 
solitary state. Her supper ended, we ate what was left. We 
ate without order or measure, in any way we could. Our only 
table service was her wash-cloth and the remnants of her 
bread. And, though this repast was very ill-organised, it was 
not at all disagreeable, because it had the advantage of what 
is called " privacy," and because of the quality and the merit 
of those who sometimes met there. 

The most modern Courts still retain some vestiges 
of the Middle Ages. Louis XIII. had, or had had, 
four dwarfs, their salary being three hundred " tour- 
nois " or Tours livres. The King paid a man to 
look after his dwarfs, keep them in order, and 
regulate their conduct. •" 

To the day of her death, despite her exile and 
her misery, Marie de Medicis maintained in her 
service a certain Jean Gassan, who figures in her 
will as employed in " keeping the parrot." 

When a child, Louis XIV. had two baladins. 
Mademoiselle had a dwarf who did not retire from 
her service until 1645. The registers of the Parlia- 
ment (date, loth May, 1645) contain letters patent 
and duly verified, by which the King accorded to 
" Ursule Matton, the dwarf of Mademoiselle, sole 
daughter of the Duke of Orleans, the power and 

' Extraits des comptes et ddpenses du roi potir Vannie 1616 (Collection 
Danjou). 



La Grande Mademoiselle 29 

the right to establish a little market in a court be- 
hind the new meat market of Saint Honore." ' 

Marie de Medicis completed the house and estab- 
lishment of her granddaughter by giving her, for 
governess, a person of much virtue, wit, and merit, 
Madame de Saint Georges, who knew the Court 
thoroughly. Nevertheless Mademoiselle asserted 
that she had been very badly raised, thanks to the 
herd of flattering hirelings who thronged the Tuile- 
ries, and who no sooner surrounded her than they 
became insupportable. 

It is a common thing [said she] to see children who are 
objects of respect, and whose high birth and great possessions 
are continually the subject of conversation, acquire senti- 
ments of spurious glory. I so often had at my ears people 
who talked to me either about my riches or about my birth 
that I had no trouble to persuade myself that what they said 
was true, and I lived in a state of vanity which was very 
inconvenient. 

While very young she had reached a degree of 
folly where it displeased her to have people speak 
of her maternal grandmother, Madame de Guise. 
" I used to say : ^ She is my distant grandmamma; 
she is not Queen.' " 

It does not appear that Madame Saint Georges, 
that person of so much merit, had done anything 
to neutralise evil influences. 

Throughout the seventeenth century, opinions 
on the education of girls were very vacillating be- 
cause little importance was attached to them. In 

' Mimoires de Mathieu MoU, 



30 The Youth of 

1687, after all the progress accomplished through 
the double Influence of Port Royal and Madame de 
Maintenon, Fenelon wrote : 

Nothing is more neglected than the education of girls. 
Fashion and the caprices of the mothers often decide nearly 
everything. The education of boys is considered of eminent 
importance because of its bearing upon the public welfare; 
and while as many errors are committed in the education of 
boys as in the education of girls, at least it is an accepted 
idea that a great deal of enlightenment is required for the 
successful education of a boy. 

It was supposed that contact with society would 
be sufficient to form the mind and to polish the wit 
of woman. In this fact lay the cause of the in- 
equality then noticeable in women of the same 
class. They were more or less superior from vari- 
ous points of view, as they had been more or less 
advantageously placed to profit by their worldly 
lessons, by the spectacle of life, and by the conver- 
sation of honest people. 

The privileged ones were women who, like Made- 
moiselle and her associates, had been accustomed 
to the social circles where the history of their times 
was made by the daily acts of life. Their best 
teachers were the men of their own class, who in- 
trigued, conspired, fought, and died before their 
eyes, — often for their pleasure. The agitated and 
peril-fraught lives of those men, their chimeras, and 
their romanticism put into daily practice, were ad- 
mirable lessons for the future heroines of the 
Fronde. To understand the pupils, we must know 



La Grande Mademoiselle 31 

something of their teachers. What was the process 
of formation of those professors of energy ; in 
what mould was run that race of venturesome and 
restless cavaliers who evoked a whole generation 
of Amazons made in their own Image ? The sys- 
tem of the education of France of that epoch is in 
question, and it is worthy of a close and detailed 
examination. 

From their infancy, boys were prepared for the 
ardent life of their times. They were raised 
according to a clearly defined and fixed idea com- 
mon to rich and poor, to noble and to plebeian. 
The object of a boy's education was to make him a 
man while he was still very young. The only dif- 
ference in the opinions of the gentleman and of the 
bourgreois was this : 

The gentleman believed that action was the best 
stimulant to action. The bourgeois thought that 
the finer human sentiments, the so-called " humani- 
ties," were the only sound foundations for a virile 
and practical education. But whatever the method 
used, In that day, a man entered upon life at the 
age when our sons are but just beginning Intermin- 
able studies preliminary to their " examinations." 
At the age of eighteen, sixteen — even fifteen years, 
— the De Gasslons, the La Rochefoucaulds, the 
Omer Talons, and the Arnauld d'AndlUys had be- 
come officers, lawyers, or men of business, and In 
their day affairs bore little resemblance to modern 



32 The Youth of 

affairs. In our day men do not enter active life 
until they have been aged and fatigued by the 
march of years. The time of entrance upon the 
career of life ought not to be a matter of indiffer- 
ence to a people. At the age of thirty years a 
man no longer thinks and feels as he thought and 
felt at the age of twenty. His manner of making 
war is different ; and there is even more difference 
in his political action. He has different ambitions. 
His inclinations lead him into different adventures. 
The moments of history, when the agitators of the 
nation were young men, glow with the light of no 
other epoch. There was then an indefinable qual- 
ity in life, — an active principle, more ardent and 
more vital. Under Louis XHI. there were scholars 
to make the unhappy students of our own emascu- 
lated times die of envy. Certain examples of our 
modern school become bald before they rise from 
the benches of their collesfe. 

Jean de Gassion, Marshal of France at the age of 
thirty years, who " killed men " at the age of thirty- 
eight years (1647), was the fourth son, but not the 
last, of a President of Parliament at Navarre, who 
had raised his offspring with great care (having 
destined him for the career of "Letters"). The 
child took such advantage of his opportynities that 
before he was sixteen years old he was a con- 
summate scholar. He knew several of the living 
languages — German, Flemish, Italian, and Span- 
ish. Thus prepared for active life, he set out from 
Pau astride of his father's old horse. When he 



La Grande Mademoiselle 33 

had gone four or five leagues, the old horse gave 
out. Jean de Gassion continued his journey on foot. 
When he reached Savoy, they made war on him. He 
enlisted as common soldier, and fought so well that 
he was promoted cornet. When peace was declared, 
he was in France. He determined to go to the King 
of Sweden — Gustavus Adolphus, — who was said to 
be somewhere in Germany. De Gassion had re- 
solved to offer the King the service of his sword, and 
to ask to be allowed to lead the Swedish armies. But 
as he had no idea of presenting himself to the King 
single-handed, he persuaded some fifteen or twenty 
cavaliers of his own regiment to go with him, and 
embarked with them on the Baltic Sea. And — so 
runs the story — he just happened to land where 
Gustavus Adolphus was walking along the shore. 

(Such coincidences are possible only when youths 
are in their teens ; after the age of twenty, no man 
need hope for similar experience.) Jean saluted 
the King, and addressed him in excellent Latin. 
He expressed his desire to be of service. The 
King was amused ; he received the strange offer 
amiably, and consented to put the learned stripling 
to the test. And so it was that Gassion was enabled 
to attain to a colonelcy when he was but twenty-two 
years old. His early studies had stood him in good 
stead ; had he not known his Latin, he would have 
missed his career. His Ciceronian harangue, poured 
out fluently just as the occasion demanded it, at- 
tracted the favour of a King who was, by his own 
might, a prince of letters. 



34 The Youth of 

After the King of Sweden died, Gassion returned 
to France. With Conde he won the battle of 
Rocroy, and, during the siege, died of a bullet in 
his head, leaving behind him the reputation of a 
brilliant soldier and accomplished man of letters, 
as virtuous as he was brave. He never wished to 
marry. When they spoke to him of marriage, he 
answered that he did not think enough of his life 
to offer a share of it to any one. This was an 
expression of pessimism far in advance of his 
epoch. 

La Rochefoucauld, who will never be accused of 
having been naturally romantic, offered another ex- 
ample of the miracles performed by youths. Only 
once in his life did he play the part of Paladin. 
He launched himself in politics before he had a 
beard. When he was sixteen years old, he entered 
upon his grand campaign, bearing the title of 
" Master of the Camp." 

The following year he was at Court, elbowing his 
way among all the parties, busily engaged in op- 
position to Richelieu. But his politics did not add 
anything to his age ; he was still an adolescent, 
far removed from the enlightened theorist of the 
Maximes. 

The peculiarly special savour of the springtime of 
life was communicated to his soul at the hour ap- 
pointed by nature. In him it was impregnated by 
a faint perfume of heroism and of poetry. He 
never forgot the happiness with which for a week 
or more he played the fool. He was then twenty- 



La Grande Mademoiselle 35 

three years old. Queen Anne of Austria was in 
the depths of her disgrace, maltreated and perse- 
cuted by her husband and by Richelieu. 

In this extremity [said Rochefoucauld], abandoned by all 
the world, devoid of aid, daring to confide in no one but 
Mademoiselle de Hautefort — and in me, — she proposed to me 
to abduct them both and take them to Brussels, Whatever 
difficulty I may have seen in such a project, I can say that it 
gave me more joy than I had ever had in my life. I was at an 
age when a man loves to do extraordinary things, and I could 
not think of anything that would give me more satisfaction 
than that : to strike the King and the Cardinal with one blow, 
to take the Queen from her husband and from the jealous 
Richelieu, and to snatch Mademoiselle de Hautefort from the 
King who was in love with her ! 

In truth the adventure would not have been an 
ordinary one ; La Rochefoucauld assumed its du- 
ties with enthusiasm, renouncing them only when 
the Queen changed her mind. 

Like all his fellows, La Rochefoucauld had his 
outburst of youth ; but he fell short of its folly. 
Recalling his extravagant project, he said : " Youth 
is a continuous intoxication ; it is the fever of 
Reason." 

The memoirs of Arnauld d' Andilly tell us how 
the sons of the higher nobility were educated 
in the year 1600 and thereabout. Arnauld d' An- 
dilly began to study Greek and Latin at home, 
under the supervision of a very learned father. 
Toward his tenth year his family thought that the 
moment had come to introduce into his little head 
the meanings and the realities of speculation. The 



36 The Youth of 

child was destined for "civil employment." His 
day was divided into two parts ; one half was 
devoted to " disinterested study " ; the other half to 
the study of things practical. So he served his ap- 
prenticeship for business by such a system that his 
themes and his versions lost none of their rights. 
His mornings were consecrated to lessons and 
tasks. They were long mornings ; the family rose 
at four o'clock. The little student became a good 
Latinist, and even a good Hellenist. He wrote 
very well in French, and he was a good reader. 

Ten or twelve volumes which belonged to him 
are still in existence, and they attest that he knew 
a great deal more than the graduates of our modern 
colleges, — though he knew nothing of the things 
they aim at. At eleven o'clock he closed his lexi- 
cons, bade adieu to his preceptor and to the 
pedagogy, bestrode his horse, and rode to Paris, 
to the house of one of his uncles, who had taken it 
upon himself to teach the boy everything that he 
could not learn from his books. Our forefathers 
carefully watched their sons' first contact with 
reality. They tried not to leave to chance the 
duties of so important an initiation ; and as a 
general thing their supervision left ineffaceable 
traces. Uncle Claude de la Mothe-Arnauld, Treas- 
urer-General of France, installed his nephew in his 
private cabinet and gave him various bundles of 
endorsed papers to decipher. The child was 
obliged to pick out their meaning and then render 
a clear analysis of it in a distinct voice. When he 



La Grande Mademoiselle 37 

was fifteen years old another uncle, a Supervisor of 
the National Finances, caused the student to " put 
his fist into the dough " in his own office. At six- 
teen years of age, " little Arnauld " was " M. Ar- 
nauld d' Andilly " ; vested with office under the 
State, received at Court, and permitted to assist 
behind the chair of the King, at the Councils of 
Finance, so that he might hear financial arguments, 
and learn from the Nation's statesmen how to de- 
cide great questions. His education was not an 
exceptional one. The sons of the bourgeoisie were 
raised in like manner. Attempts to educate boys 
were more or less successful, according to the 
natural gifts of the postulants. Omer Talon, Ad- 
vocate-General of the Parliament of Paris, and one 
of the great Parliamentary orators of the century, 
had pursued extensive classical studies, and "as he 
spoke, Latin and Greek rushed to his lips." * He 
had "vast attainments in law," a science much more 
complicated in the sixteenth century than in our day. 
But, learned though he was, he had not lingered 
on the benches of his school. He was admitted 
to the Bar when he was eighteen years old, and 
" immediately began to plead and to be celebrated." 

Antoine Le Maitre, the first " Solitaire " of Port 
Royal, began his career by appearing in public as 
the best known and most important and influential 
lawyer in Paris when he was twenty-one years old. 

Generally, the nobility sacrificed learning, which 
it despised, to an impatient desire to see its sons " in 
active life." The nobles made pages of their sons as 



3^ The Youth of 

soon as they were thirteen or fourteen years old, 
or else sent them to the "Academy" to leara how- 
to make proper use of a horse, to fence, to vault, 
and to dance.^ 

In the eyes of people of quality books and writ- 
ings were the tools of plebeians ; good enough for 
professional fine wits, or lawyers' clerks, but not fit 
for the nobility. 

In the reign of Louis XI 11.,^ M. d' Avenal wrote 
thus: "Gentlemen are perfectly ignorant, — the 
most illustrious and the most modestly insignificant 
alike. In this respect, with few exceptions, there 
is absolute equality between them." 

The Constable, De Montmorency, had the repu- 
tation of a man of sound sense, "though he had no 
book learning, and hardly knew how to write his 
own name." Many of the great lords knew no 
more ; and this ignorance was not shameful ; on the 
contrary it was desired, affected, gloried in, and 
eagerly imitated by the lesser nobility. 

" I never sharpen my pen with anything but my 
sword," proudly declared a gentleman. 

" Ah ? " answered a wit ; " then your bad writ- 
ing does not astonish me ! " 

The exceptions to the rule resulted from the 
caprices of the fathers ; and they were sometimes 
found where least expected. The famous Bassom- 
pierre, arbiter of fashion and flower of courtiers, 

• Letter written by Pontis. 

' Richelieu et la monarc hie absolue. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 39 

who, at one sitting, burned more than six thousand 
letters from women, who wore habits costing 
fourteen thousand ecus, and could describe their 
details twenty years after he had worn them, had 
been very liberally educated, and according to a 
method which as may be imagined, was far in 
advance of the methods of his day. He had fol- 
lowed the college course until the sixteenth year of 
his age, he had laboured at rhetoric, logic, phy- 
sics, and law, and dipped deep into Hippocrates 
and Aristotle. He had also studied les cas de 
Conscience. Then he had gone to Italy, where he 
had attended the best riding schools, the best fenc- 
ing schools, a school of fortifications, and several 
princely Courts. At the age of nineteen years he 
was a superb cavalier and a good musician, he 
knew the world, and had made a very brilliant first 
appearance at Court. 

The great Conde, General-in-Chief at the age of 
twenty-two years, had followed a college course at 
the school of Bourges, and had been " drilled " at 
the " Academy." He was tried by the fire of many 
a hard school. Wherever he went he was preceded 
by tart letters of instruction from his father. By 
his father's orders he was always received and 
treated as impartially as any of the lesser aspirants to 
education ; he was severely ** exercised," put on his 
mettle in various ways, and compelled to start out 
from first principles, no matter how well he knew 
them. When seven years old he spoke Latin 
fluently. When he reached the age of eleven he 



40 The Youth of 

was well grounded in rhetoric, law, mathematics, 
and the Italian language. He could turn a verse 
very prettily ; and he excelled in everything 
athletic. 

Louis XIII. applauded this deep and thorough 
study, — perhaps because he regretted his lost op- 
portunities. He told people that he should "wish 
to have . . . Monsieur the Dauphin," educated 
in like manner.^ 

In measure as the century advanced it began to 
be recognised that a nobleman could " study " with- 
out detracting from his noble dignity. Louis de 
Pontis, who started out as a D' Artagnan, and ended 
at Port Royal,^ wished that time could be taken to 
instruct the youth of the nation. Answering some 
one who had asked his advice as to the education 
of two young lords of the Court, he wrote ^ : 

I will begin by avowing that I do not share the sentiments 
of those who wish for their children only so much science as 
is " needed " — as they call it — " for a gentleman "; I do not 
see things in that light. I should demand more science. 

Since science teaches man how to reason and to speak 
well in public, is it not necessary to men, who, by the grandeur 
of their birth, their employment, and their duties, may need 
it at any moment, and who make use of it in their numerous 
meetings with the enlightened of the world ? There are sev- 
eral personages who hold that the society of' virtuous and 
talented women expands and polishes the mind of a young 
cavalier more than the conversation of men of letters; but I 
am not of their opinion. . . . 

' Me'moires of Lenet. ' 

' See his Me'?noires. 

* A few years before his death, which occurred in 1670. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 41 

Notwithstanding this declaration, Pontis desired 
that ofreat difference should be established between 
the treatment of a child training for the robes and 
the treatment of one training for military service. 
" The first ought never to end his studies ; it is 
sufificient for the second to study until his fifteenth 
or sixteenth year ; after that time he ought to be 
sent to the Academy, 

In this opinion Pontis echoed the general im- 
pression. At the time when La Grande Mademoi- 
selle was born, the man of quality no longer had a 
right to be "brutal," — in other words, to betray 
coarseness of nature. New customs and new man- 
ners exacted from the man of noble birth tact and 
good breeding, not science. But it was requisite 
that the nobleman's mind should be " formed " by 
the influence and discourse of a man of letters, so 
that he might be capable of judging witty and in- 
tellectual works ("works of the mind"). 

Marshal Montmorency,^ son of the Constable, 
who " hardly knew how to write his own name," 
had always in his employ cultured and intellectual 
people, who "made verses" for him on a multitude 
of such subjects as it was befitting his high estate 
that he should know ; such subjects as were calcu- 
lated to give him an air of intelligence and general 
information. His intellectual advisers informed 
him what to think and what to say of the cur- 
rent questions of the day.^ It was good form for 
great and noble houses to entertain at least one 

* Beheaded in 1632, aged thirty-seven years. 'Tallemant. 



42 The Youth of 

autheur. As there were no pubHc journals or re- 
views, the authetir took the place of literary chron- 
icles and literary criticism. He talked of the last 
dramatic sketch, or of the last new novel. 

It was not long before another step in advance 
was taken, by which every nobleman was permitted 
to entertain his own personal atttheur, and to 
compose "works of the mind" for himself. But 
he who succumbed to the epidemic {cacoethes 
scribendi^, owed it to his birth and breeding to hide 
his malady, or to make excuses for it. 

Mile, de Scudery puts in the mouth of Sapho 
(herself) in Le Grand Cyrus ^ : 

Nothing is more inconvenient than to be intellectual or to 
be treated as if one were so, when one has a noble heart and 
a certain degree of birth ; for I hold that it is an indubitable 
fact that from the moment one separates himself from the 
multitude, distinguishing one's self by the enlightenment of 
one's mind; when one acquires the reputation of having more 
mind than another, and of writing well enough — in prose or 
in verse — to be able to compose books, then, I say, one loses 
one half of one's nobility — if one has any — and one is not one 
half as important as another of the same house and of the 
same blood, who has not meddled with writings. . . . 

About the time this opinion saw the light, Talle- 
mant des Reaux wrote to M. de Montausier, hus- 
band of the beautiful Julie d'Angennes, and one of 
the satellites of the Hotel de Rambouillet : " He 
plys the trade of a man of mind too well for a man 
of quality — or at least he plays the part too seri- 
ously ... he has even made translations. ..." 

' The first volume of Le Grand Cyrus appeared in 1649; the last in 1653. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 43 

This mention is marked by one just feature : the 
man who wrote, who could write, or who indulged 
in writing, was supposed to have judgment enough 
to keep him from attaching importance to his works. 
The fine world had regained the taste for refine- 
ment lost in the fracas of the civil wars ; but in the 
higher classes of society was still reflected the 
horror of the preceding generations for pedants 
and for pedantry. 

Ignorant or learned, half-grown boys were cast 
forward by their hasty education into their various 
careers when they had barely left the ranks of in- 
fancy. They were reckless, still in the flower of 
their giddy youth ; but they were enthusiastic and 
generous. France received their high spirits very 
kindly. Deprived of the good humour, and stripped 
of the illusions furnished by the young representa- 
tives of their manhood, the times would have been 
too hard to be endured. The traditions of the 
centuries when might was the only right still 
weighed upon the soul of the people. One of those 
traditions exacted that — from his infancy — a man 
should be "trained to blood." A case was cited 
where a man had his prisoners killed by his own 
son, — a child ten years old. One exaction was 
that a man should never be conscious of the suffer- 
ings of a plebeian. 

France had received a complete inheritance of 
inhuman ideas, which protected and maintained 
the remains of the savagery that ran, like a stained 
thread, through the national manners, just falling 



44 The Youth of 

short of rendering odious the gallant cavaliers. 
All that saved them from the disgust aroused by 
the brutal exercise of the baser 'rights" was the 
bright ray of poetry, whose dazzling light gleamed 
amidst their sombre faults. 

They were quarrelsome, but brave. Perchance 
as wild as outlaws, but devoted, gay, and loving. 
They were extraordinarily lively, because they were 
— or had been but a short time before — extra- 
ordinarily young, with a youth that is not now, nor 
ever shall be. 

They inspired the women with their boisterous 
gallantry. In the higher classes the sexes led nearly 
the same life. They frequented the same pleasure 
resorts and revelled in the same joys. They met 
in the lanes and alleys, at the theatre {Comddie), at 
balls, in their walks, on the hunt, on horseback, and 
even in the camps. A woman of the higher classes 
had constantly recurring opportunities to drink in 
the spirit of the times. As a result the ambitious 
aspired to take part in public life ; and they shaped 
their course so well, and made so much of their op- 
portunities, that Richelieu complained of the im- 
portance of women in the State. They were seen 
entering politics, and conspiring like men ; and they 
urged on the men to the extremes of folly. 

Some of the noblewomen had wardrobes full of 
disguises ; and they ran about the streets and the 
highways dressed as monks or as gentlemen. 
Among them were several who wielded the sword 
in duel and in war, and who rode fearlessly and 



La Grande Mademoiselle 45 

well. They were all handsome and courageous, 
and even in the abandon of their most reckless 
gambols they found means to preserve their deli- 
cacy and their grace. Never were women more 
womanly. Men adored them, trembling lest some- 
thing should come about to alter their perfection. 
Their fear was the cause of their desperate and 
stubborn opposition to the idea of the education of 
girls, then beginning to take shape among the elder 
women. 

I cannot say that the men were not in the wrong ; 
but I do say that I understand and appreciate their 
motives. Woman, or goddess, of the order of the 
nobles of the time of Louis XIII., was a work of 
art, rare and perfect ; and to tremble for her safety 
was but natural ! 

It happened that La Grande Mademoiselle came 
to the age to profit by instruction just when polite 
circles were discussing the education of girls. The 
governess whose duty it had been to guide her 
mind was caught between two opposing forces : 
the defendants of the ancient ignorance and the 
first partisans of the idea of " enlightenment for ally 



Les Femntes Savantes might have been written 
under Richelieu. Philame?zte had not awaited the 
advent of Moliere to protest against the ignorance 
and the prejudice that enslaved her sex. When 
the piece appeared, more than half a century had 
elapsed since people had quarrelled in the little 



46 The Youth of 

streets about woman's position, — what she ought to 
know, and what she ought not to know. But if the 
piece had been written long before its first appear- 
ance, the treatment of the subject could not have 
been the same. It would have been necessary to 
agree as to what woman ought to be in her home 
and in her social relations ; and at that time they 
were just beginning to disagree on that very sub- 
ject. Nearly all men thought that things ought 
to be maintained in the existing conditions. The 
nobles had exquisite mistresses and incomparable 
political allies ; the bourgeois had excellent house- 
keepers ; and to one and all alike, noble and bour- 
geois, it seemed that any instruction would be 
superfluous ; that things were perfect just as they 
were. The majority of the women shared the opin- 
ions of the men. The minority, looking deeper into 
the question, saw that there might be a more serious 
and more intellectual way of living to which ignor- 
ance would be an obstacle ; but at every turn they 
were met by men stubbornly determined that 
women should not be made to study. Such men 
would not admit that there could be any difference 
between a cultivated woman and " Savante'' — the 
term then used for " blue-stocking." It must be 
confessed that there was some justice in^ their judg- 
ment. For a reason which escapes me, when 
knowledge attempted to enter the mind of a woman 
it had great trouble to make conditions with nature 
and simplicity. It was not so easy ! Even to-day 
certain preparations are necessary, — appointment 



La Grande Mademoiselle 47 

of commandants, the selection of countersigns, es- 
tablishment of a picket-line — not to say a dead- 
line. We \i2N& prdcieuses in our own day, and their 
pretensions and their grimaces have been lions in 
our path whenever we have attempted the higher 
instruction of our daughters ; the truly precieitses, 
they who were instrumental in winning the cause 
of the higher education of women — they who, 
under the impulsion given by the Hotel de Ram- 
bouillet, worked to purify contemporary language 
and manners — were not ignorant of the baleful 
affectation of their sisters, nor of the extent of 
its compromising effect upon their own efforts. 
Mile, de Scudery, who knew " nearly everything 
that one could know " (by which was probably meant 
" everything fit to be known "), and who piqued 
herself upon being not less modest than she was 
wise, could not be expected to share, or to take part 
in, and in the mind of the public be confounded 
with, the female Trissotins whose burden of ridicule 
she felt so keenly. She would not allow herself to 
resemble them in any way when she brought them 
forth in Grand Cyrus, where the questions now called 
" feminist " were discussed with great good sense. 

Damophile, who affects to imitate Sapho, is only 
her caricature. Sapho " does not resemble a ' Sa- 
vanie'"'] her conversation is natural, gallant, and 
easy (commodious). 

Damophile always had five or six teachers. I be- 
lieve that the least learned among them taught her 
astrology. 



48 The Youth of 

She was always writing to the men who made a 
profession of science. She could not make up her 
mind to have anything to say to people who did 
not know anything. Fifteen or twenty books were 
always to be seen on her table ; and she always 
held one of them in her hand when any one en- 
tered the room, or when she sat there alone ; and 
I am assured that it could be said without prevari- 
cation that one saw more books in her cabinet than 
she had ever read, and that at Sap ho s house one 
saw fewer books than she had read. 

More than that, Damophile used only great 
words, which she pronounced in a grave and im- 
perious voice ; though what she said was unim- 
portant ; and Sapho, on the contrary, used only 
short, common words to express admirable things. 
Besides that, Damophile, believing that knowledge 
did not accord with her family affairs, never had 
anything to do with domestic cares ; but as to 
Sapho, she took pains to inform herself of every- 
thing necessary to know in order to command even 
the least things pertaining to the household. 

Damophile not only talked as if she were reading 
out of a book, but she was always talking about 
books ; and, in her ordinary conversation, she spoke 
as freely of unknown authors as if she were giving 
public lessons in some celebrated academy. 

She tries . . . with peculiar and strange carefulness, 
to let it be known how much she knows, or thinks that she 
knows. And that, too, the first time that a stranger sees her. 
And there are so many obnoxious, disagreeable, and trouble- 



La Grande Mademoiselle 49 

some things about Damophile, that one must acknowledge 
that if there is nothing more amiable nor more charming than 
a woman who takes pains to adorn her mind with a thousand 
agreeable forms of knowledge, — when she knows how to use 
them, — nothing is as ridiculous and as annoying as a woman 
who is " stupidly wise." 

Mile, de Scudery raged when people, who had 
no tact, took her for a Damopkile, and, meaning 
to compliment her, consulted her " on grammar," 
or " touchine one of Hesiod's verses." Then the 
vials of her wrath were poured out upon the 
"■ Sava7ites'' who gave the prejudiced reason for 
condemning the education of woman, and who pro- 
voked annoying and ridiculous misconception by 
their insupportable pedantry ; when there were so 
many young girls of the best families who did not 
even learn their own language, and who could not 
make themselves understood when they took their 
pens in hand. 

" The majority of women," said Nicanor, " seem to try to 
write so that people will misunderstand them, so strange is 
their writing and so little sequency is there in their words." 

" It is certain," replied Sapho, "that there are women who 
speak well who write badly; and that they do write badly is 
purely their own fault. . . . Doubtless it comes from the 
fact that they do not like to read, or that they read without 
paying any attention to what they are doing, and without re- 
flecting upon what they have read. So that although they 
have read the same words they use when they write, thousands 
and thousands of times, when they come to write they write 
them all wrong. And by putting some letters where other 
letters ought to be, they make a confused tangle which no one 
can distinsruish unless he is well used to it." 



50 The Youth of 

"What you say is so true," answered Erinne, " that I saw it 
proved no longer ago than yesterday. I visited one of my 
friends, who has returned from the country, and I carried her 
all the letters she wrote to me while she was away, so that she 
might read them to me and let me know what was in them." 

Mademoiselle de Scudery did not exaggerate ; our 
great-grandmothers did not see the utility of ap- 
plying a knowledge of spelling to their letters. In 
that respect each one extricated herself by the 
grace of God. 

The Marchioness of Sable, who was serious and 
wise, and, according to the testimony of Sapho, 
" the type of the perfect precietise " had peculiar 
ways of her own in her spelling. She wrote, 
J'hasse, notre broulerie voire houbly. Another 
'' p7'-^cieuse" Madame de Bregy, whose prose and 
verse both appeared in print, wrote to Madame de 
Sable, when they were both in their old age : 

Je vous dire que je vieus d'aprendre que samedi. Mon- 
sieur, Madame, et les poupons reviene a Paris, et que pour 
aujourd'huy la Rayue et Madame de Toscane vout a Saint- 
Clou don la naturelle baute sera reause de tout les musique 
possible et d'un repas magnifique don je quiterois tous les 
gous pour une ecuelle non pas de nantille, mes pour une de- 
vostre potage ; rien n'etan si delisieus que d'an mauger en 
vous ecoutan parler. (19th September, 1672.) 

It is but just to add that as far as orthography 
was concerned many of the men were women. The 
following letter of the Duke of Gesvres, " first 
gentleman of Louis XIV.," has no reason to envy 
the letter of the old Marchioness. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 51 

(Paris, this 20th September, 1677.) Monsieur me trouvant 
oblige de randre vuue bonne party de I'argan que mais enfant 
out pris de peuis quil sont en campane Monsieur cela m'oblije 
a vous suplier tres humblement Monsieur de me faire la 
grasse de Commander Monsieur quant il vous plaira que Ton 
me pay le capiteneiry de Movsaux monsieur vous asseurant que 
vous m'oblijeres fort sansiblement Monsieur, comme ausy de 
me croire avec toute sorte de respec Monsieur vastre tres 
humble et tres obeissant serviteur." 

Enough is as good as a feast ! Though we stand 
in no superstitious awe of orthography, we can but 
laud Mademoiselle de Scudery for having crossed 
lances in its favour. And well might she wish that 
to the first elements of an education might be added 
a certain amount of building material suitable for 
a foundation so solid that something more serious 
than dancing steps and chiffons might at a later 
date be introduced into the brains of young girls. 

Seriously, [she said] is there anything stranger than the 
way they act when they prepare to enter upon the ordinary 
education of woman ? One does not wish women to be 
coquettish or gallant, and yet they are permitted to learn 
carefully everything that has anything to do with gallantry; 
though they are not permitted to know anything that might 
fortify their virtue or occupy their minds. All the great 
scoldings given them in their first youth because they are not 
proper ' — that is to say dressed in good taste, and because they 
do not apply themselves to their dancing lessons and their sing- 
ing lessons — do they not prove what I say? And the strangest 
of all is that this should be so when a woman cannot, with any 
propriety, dance more than five or six years of all the years of 
her life ! And this same person who has been taught to do 

' Mademoiselle de Scudery uses the word J>ro/jre, meaning " elegant," etc. 



52 The Youth of 

nothing but to dance is obliged to give proof of judgment to 
the day of her death ; and though she is expected to speak 
properly, even to her last sigh, nothing is done — of all that 
might be done — to make her speak more agreeably, nor to 
act with more care for her conduct ; and when the manner in 
which these ladies pass their lives is considered, it might be 
said that they seem to have been forbidden to have reason and 
good sense, and that they were put in the world only that 
they might sleep, be fat, be handsome, do nothing, and say 
nothing but silly things. ... I know one who sleeps more 
than twelve hours every day, who takes three or four hours 
to dress herself, or, to speak more to the point : not to dress 
herself — for more than half of the time given to dressing is 
passed either in doing nothing or in doing over what has been 
done. Then she employs fully two or three hours in con- 
suming her divers repasts ; and all the rest of the time is 
spent receiving people to whom she does not know what to 
say, or in paying visits to people who do not know what to say 
to her. 

In spite of her strictness. Mile, de Scudery was 
no advocate of the idea which makes a woman 
her husband's servant, or installs her as the slave 
of the stew-pan. Whenever she was urged to 
"tell precisely what a woman ought to know," 
the problem was so new to her that she did not 
know how to answer it. She evaded it, rejecting 
its generalities. She had only two fixed ideas : 
that science was necessary to women ; ^.nd that the 
women who attained it must not let it be known 
that they had attained it. She expressed her two 
opinions clearly: 

It [science] serves to show them the meaning of things ; 
it makes it possible for them to listen intelligently when their 



La Grande Mademoiselle 53 

mental superiors are talking — even to talk to the point and 
to express opinions — but they must not talk as books talk ; 
they must try to speak as if their knowledge had come nat- 
urally, as if their inherent common sense had given them an 
understanding of the things in question. 

Mademoiselle had in her mind one woman whom 
she would have liked to set up as a pattern for all 
other women. That one woman knew Latin, and 
because of her sense and propriety, was esteemed 
by Saint Augustine, and yet no one had ever 
thouorht of caUina her a " Savante.'' 

Mile, de Scudery was very grateful to the charm- 
ing Mme. de Sevigne, because she plead the cause 
of woman's education by so fine an example, and 
she depicted her admirable character with visible 
complaisance, under the name of Clarinte. ^ 

Her conversation is easy, diverting and natural. She 
speaks to the point, and evinces clear judgment ; she speaks 
well; she even has some spontaneous expressions, so ingenuous 
and so witty that they are infinitely pleasing. . . . Clarinte 
dearly loves to read ; and what is better, without playing the 
wit, she is admirably quick to seize the hidden meaning of 
fine ideas. She has so much judgment that, though she is 
neither severe, nor shy, she has found the means to preserve 
the best reputation in the world. . . . What is most mar- 
vellous in this person is that, young as she is, she cares for 
her household as prudently as if she had had all the experience 
that time can give to a very enlightened mind; and what I ad- 
mire still more, is that whenever it is necessary she can do 
without the world, and without the Court; she is as happy in 
the country, she can amuse herself as well there, as if she had 
been born in the woods. ... I had nearly forgotten to tell 

• In Civile. 



54 The Youth of 

you that she writes as she speaks; that is to say, most agree- 
ably and as gallantly as possible. 

The programme used for the distribution of 
studies by means of which the De Sevignes were 
fabricated is not revealed. Nature herself must 
have furnished a portion of the plan. As far as we 
can judge the part played by education was re- 
stricted to the adoption of some of the suggestions 
of very rich moral endowments. 

Mile, de Chantal had been admirably directed 
by her uncle, the Abbe de Coulanges, and, aside 
from the cares of the profession which now presides 
over the education of woman, it is probable that more 
efficient means could not be found for the proper 
formation of the character of a girl than it was 
Mademoiselle de Chantal's good fortune to enjoy. 

Menage and Chapelain had been her guides in 
rhetoric. She had read Tacitus and Virgil in the 
original all her life. She was familiar with Italian 
and with Spanish, and had ancient and modern 
history at her tongue's end, — also the moralists 
and the religious writers. 

These serious and well-grounded foundations, 
which she continually strengthened and renewed 
until death, did not prevent her from "adoring" 
poetry, the drama, and the superior novels, — in 
short, all things of enlightenment and worth 
wherever she found them and under whatever 
form. She was graceful in the dance; she sang 
well, — her contemporaries said that her manner of 
singing was "impassioned." 




MADAME DE SEVIQNE 

FROM AN ENGRAVING OF THE PAINTING BY MUNTZ 



La Grande Mademoiselle 55 

The Abbe Coulanges had raised her so carefully 
that she was orderly; and, unlike the majority, she 
liked to pay her debts. She was a perfect type of 
woman. She even made a few mistakes in ortho- 
graphy, taking one, or more, letter, or letters, for 
another, or for others. In short, she made just the 
number of errors sufhclent to permit her to be a 
writer of eenius without detracting^ from her air of 
distinguished elegance, or from the obligations 
and the quality of her birth. 

There were others at Court and in the city who 
confirmed their right to enlightenment, thereby just- 
ifying the theses of Mademoiselle de Scudery. But 
a large number of women gave the lie to her theories 
by their resemblance to Damophile. Of these latter 
was " the worthy Gournay," Montaigne's " daughter 
by alliance," who, from the exalted heights of her 
Greek and Latin, and in a loud, insistent voice, 
discoursed like a doctor of medicine on the most 
ticklish of subjects, — subjects far from pleasing 
when rolled out of the mouth of a woman, even 
when so displaced in the name of antiquity and all 
that is venerable ! (For in these names "the good 
Gournay " evoked them.) There was another 
pedant, the Viscountess d'Auchy, who had " founded 
conferences " in her own house ; the people of the 
fine world flocked there to smother as they listened 
while it was proved, for their edification, that the 
Holy Trinity had natural reasons for its existence. 
On those "foundations" the Innate Idea also was 
proved by demonstrative reason by collecting and 



56 The Youth of 

by analysing the ideas of young children concerning 
philosophy and theology. The lady who founded 
the conferences had bought some manuscript Hom- 
ilies on the Epistles of St. Paul, of a doctor of the- 
ology. She had had them imprinted and attached 
to portraits of herself. Thus accoutred for their 
mission, they were circulated with great success, 
and their proceeds formed the endowment fund of 
the Conference Library. 

" The novelty of seeing a great lady of the Court 
commenting on the most obscure of the apostles 
caused every one to buy the book."^ It ended by 
the Archbishop of Paris intimating to the " Order 
of the Conferences " that they " would better leave 
Theology to the Sorbonne." 

Mile. Des Jardins declaimed her verses in the 
salons with great "contortions" and with eyes rolling 
as if in death ; and she was not at all pleased when 
people preferred Corneille's writings to her own. 

Mile. Diodee frightened her hearers so that they 
took to their heels when she began to read her fine 
thoughts on Zoroaster or on Hermes Trismegistus. 
Another learned lady would speak of nothing but 
solar or lunar eclipses and of comets. 

The pedantry of this high order of representa- 
tive woman transported the " honest man " with 
horror. The higher the birth of the man the 
greater his fear lest by some occult means he might 
be led to slip his neck into the noose of a " Savante." 
But there was one counter-irritant for this virulent 

' Tallemant. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 57 

form of literary eruption. The young girls of the 
highest nobility were all extremely ignorant. Mile, 
de Maille-Breze, niece of Cardinal de Richelieu, 
had not an idea of the most limited degree of the 
knowledofe of books when she married the oreat 
Conde (1641). She knew nothing whatever. Itwas 
considered that ignorance carried to such length 
proved that neglect of instruction had gone too 
far, and when the great Conde went on his first 
campaign, friends seized the opportunity to add a 
few facets to the uncut jewel. She was turned 
and turned about, viewed in different lights, and 
polished so that her qualities could be seen to the 
best advantage. "The year after her marriage," 
says Mile, de Scudery, " she was sent to the Con- 
vent of the Carmelite Nuns of Saint Denis, to be 
taught to learn to read and write, during the ab- 
sence of Monsieur her husband." 

The Conies de Perrault — -faithful mirror of the 
habits of those days — teaches us what an accom- 
plished princess ought to be like. All the fairies to 
be found in the country had acted as godmothers 
to the Belle-au-Bois-dormant, 

so that each one of them could bring her a gift . . . con- 
sequently the princess had acquired every imaginable perfec- 
tion. . . . The youngest fairy gave her the gift of being 
the most beautiful woman in the world ; the one who came 
next gave her the spirit of an angel ; the third endowed her 
with power to be graceful in everything that she did ; the 
fourth gave her the art of dancing like a fairy ; the fifth the 
art of singing like a nightingale ; and the sixth endowed her 
with the power to play all kinds of instruments to perfection. 



58 The Youth of 

Perrault had traced his portraits over the strongly 
defined hnes of real life. La Grande Mademoiselle 
was trained after the manner of \}i\^Belle-au-Bois-dor- 
mant. Her governess had had too much experience 
to burden her with a science that would have made 
her redoubtable in the eyes of men ; so she had 
transferred to the fairies the task of providing her 
young charge with a suitable investiture. Unhap- 
pily for her eternal fame, when she distributed her 
powers of attorney some of the fairies were absent ; 
so Mademoiselle neither sang like a nightingale, 
nor displayed classic grace in all her actions. But 
her resemblance to Perrault's heroines was striking. 
The fairies empowered to invest her with mind and 
delicacy of feeling had been present at her baptism, 
and they had left indisputable proof of the origin of 
her ideas. Like their predecessors, the elves of the 
Contes, they had never planned for anything less than 
the marriage of their god-daughter to the King's 
son. By all that she saw and heard, Mademoiselle 
knew that Providence had not closed an eye at the 
moment of her creation. She knew that her qual- 
ity was essential. She knew that it was written on 
high that she should marry the son of a great King. 

Her life was a conscientious struggle to " accom- 
plish the oracle " ; and the marriages that 'she missed 
form the weft of her history. 

VI 

The first of the Memoires show us the Court of 
Louis Xni. and the affairs of the day as seen by a 



La Grande Mademoiselle 59 

little girl. This is an aspect to which historians 
have not accustomed us ; and as a natural result of 
the infantine point of view the horizons are consid- 
erably narrowed. The little Princess did not know 
that anything important was taking place in Ger- 
many. She could not be ignorant of the fact that 
Richelieu was engaged in a struggle with the high 
powers of France ; she read the general distress 
in the clouded faces surrounding her. But in her 
mind she decided that it was nothing but one of 
her father's quarrels with the Cardinal. The judg. 
ments she rendered against the high personages 
whose houses she frequented were dictated by pure- 
ly sentimental considerations. " Some she liked ; 
some she did not like " ; consequently the former 
gained, and the latter lost. Many contestants were 
struggling before her young eyes ; Louis XIII. was 
amonof the winners. 

He was a good uncle, very affectionate to his 
niece, and deeply grateful that she was nothing , 
worse than a grirl. He could never rid himself of 
the idea that his brother might have endowed him 
with an heir. He had Mademoiselle brought to 
the Louvre by the gallery along the river, and 
allowed himself to be cheered by her turbulence 
and uncurbed indiscretions. 

Anne of Austria exhibited a deep tenderness for 
Mademoiselle ; but no one can deceive a child. " I 
think that all the love she showed me was nothing 
but the effect of what she felt for Monsieur," writes 
Mademoiselle ; and further on she formally declares 



6o The Youth of 

that the Queen, beHeving herself destined to a 
near widowhood, had formed the " plan " of marry- 
ing Monsieur. Whatever the Queen's plans may 
have been, it is certain that she caressed the 
daughter for love of the father. Anne of Austria 
never forgave Mademoiselle for the part that she 
had played before her birth, in the winter of 1626- 
1627, when the Duchess of Orleans so arrogantly 
promised to bring forth a Dauphin. Monsieur had 
no reason to fear the scrutiny of a child. He was 
a charming playfellow ; gay, complaisant, fond of 
his daughter, at least for the moment, — no one 
could count upon the future ! 

Cardinal de Richelieu could not gain anything by 
thoughtful criticism. To the little Princess he was 
the Croquemitaine of the Court. When we think 
of his ogre face — spoil sport that he was ! as he 
appeared to the millions of French people who were 
incapable of understanding his policy — the silhou- 
ette traced by the hand of Mademoiselle appears in 
a new light, and we are forced to own that its pro- 
found and simple ignorance is instructive. 

Marie de Medicis had managed to disappear 
from the Luxembourg and from Paris, after the 
Journ^e des Dupes (11 November, 1630), and her 
little granddaughter had not noticed her depart- 
ure. She writes : " I was still so young that I do 
not remember that I ever saw her." The case was 
not the same after the departure of Monsieur. He 
had continually visited the Tuileries, and when he 
came no more the child knew it well enough. She 



La Grande Mademoiselle 6i 

understood that her father had been punished, and 
she was not permitted to remain ignorant of the 
identity of the insolent personage who had placed 
him on the penitential stool. Mademoiselle, then 
less than four years old, was outraged in all her 
feelings by the success of Richelieu. She made 
war upon him in her own way ; and, dating from 
that day, became dear to the people of Paris, who 
had always loved to vex and to humble the Gov- 
ernment. She wrote with a certain pride : " On 
that occasion my conduct did not at all answer to 
my years. I did not want to be amused in any 
way ; and they could not even make me go to the 
assemblies at the Louvre." As she had no better 
scapegoat, her bad humour was vented on the King. 
She constantly growled at him, demanding that he 
should bring back her " papa." But Mademoiselle 
was never able to pout to such purpose that she 
could stay away from the palace long, for she was 
a true courtier, firmly convinced that to be away 
from Court was to be in a desert, no matter how 
many servants and companions might surround 
her. She soon mended her broken relations with 
the assemblies and the collations of the Louvre, 
and could not refrain from " entering into the 
joy of her heart " when " Their Majesties " sent 
word to her guardians to take her to Fontainebleau. 
But she never laid down her arms where Richelieu 
was concerned. She knew all the songs that were 
written against him. 

Meanwhile Monsieur had not taken any steps 



62 The Youth of 

to make himself interesting. As soon as he had 
crossed the French frontier he entered upon a 
pleasure debauch which rendered him unfit for 
active service, for a time at least. He paid for 
his high flight in Spanish money. In 1632 he 
further distinguished himself by entering France 
at the head of a foreign army. On that occasion 
he caused the death of the Duke of Montmorency, 
who was executed for " rebellion." 

Immediately after the Duke's execution, it was 
discovered that Monsieur had secretly married a 
sister of the Duke of Lorraine. He, Monsieur, 
crowned his efforts by signing a treaty with Spain 
(12 May, 1634), for which act France paid by 
yielding up strips of French territory. 

But to his daughter Monsieur was always the 
victim of an impious persecution. Speaking of the 
years gorged with events so closely concerning her 
own life, she says : 

Many things passed in those days. I was only a child ; 
I had no part in anything, and could not notice anything; All 
that I can remember is that at Fontainebleau (5 May, 1663) 
I saw the Ceremony of the Chevaliers of the Order. During 
the ceremony they degraded from the Order Monsieur the 
Duke d'Elboeuf, and the Marquis de la Vieu Ville. I saw 
them tear off and break the arms belonging to their rank, — a 
rank equal to all the others ; and when I asked the reason 
they told me they had insulted them "because they had fol- 
lowed Monsieur." Then I wept. I was so wounded by this 
treatment that I would have retired from Court ; and I said 
that I could not look on this action with the submission that 
would become me. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 63 

The day after the ceremony an incident exciting 
much comment added to Mademoiselle's grief. 
Her enemy, the Cardinal, took part in the promo- 
tion of the Cordons Bleus. On this occasion Louis 
XIII. wished to exalt his Minister by giving him a 
distinguishing mark of superiority. He wished to 
distinguish him, and him only, by giving him a 
present. His choice of a present fell upon an ob- 
ject well fitted to evoke the admiration of a child. 
The chevaliers of the Saint Esprit were at a ban- 
quet. At dessert they brought to Richelieu the 
King's gift, an immense rock composed of various 
delicate confitures. From the centre of the rock 
jetted a fountain of perfumed water. Given un- 
der solemn circumstances and to a prince of the 
Church, it was a singular present. It attracted re- 
mark, its familiarity tended to give colour to the 
rumours circulating to the effect that an alliance 
then in process of incubation would eventually 
unite the House of France and the family of a 
very powerful Minister, The people voiced the 
current rumour volubly ; they said that " Gaston's 
marriage with a Lorraine " would never be recog- 
nised, and that the young Prince would buy his 
pardon by marrying the niece of the Cardinal. 
Mademoiselle heard the rumours and her heart 
swelled with anguish at the thought of her father's 
dishonour. 

I was not so busy with my play that I did not listen attent- 
ively when they spoke of the " accommodating ways " of 
Monsieur! The Cardinal de Richelieu, who was first minister 



64 The Youth of 

and master of affairs, had made up his mind that it should be 
so, — that he should marry that one ! and he had expressed his 
wishes with such shameful suggestions that I could not hear 
them mentioned without despair. To make peace with the 
King, Monsieur must break his marriage with Princesse Mar- 
guerite d'Orleans, and marry Mile, de Combalet, niece of the 
Cardinal, now Madame d'Aguillon! From the time I first 
heard of the project I could not keep from weeping when 
it was spoken of; and, in my wrath, to avenge myself, I sang 
all the songs against the Cardinal and his niece that I knew. 
Monsieur did not let himself be " arranged " to suit the Car- 
dinal. He came back to France without the assistance of the 
ridiculous condition. But how it was done I do not know. I 
cannot say anything about it, because I had no knowledge of it. 

If it is true that Mademoiselle did not know 
the details of the quarrels in which the House of 
France engaged during her childhood, she was 
not inquisitive. Her knowledge in that respect 
had been at the mercy of her own inclination. By 
the thoughtful care of Richelieu, all the corre- 
spondence and all the official reports exposing the 
Court miseries were placed where all might read 
who ran. Richelieu had divined the power of the 
press over public opinion, although in that day 
there was no press in France. There were no 
journals to defend the Government. The Mercure 
Frangaise ^ was not a journal ; it appeared once a 
year, and contained only a brief narration of " the 
most remarkable things that had come to pass " in 
the " four parts of the world." Renaudot's Gazette ^ 
was hardly a journal, though it appeared every 

' The first number bears date 1605. 

' The first number appeared May i, 1631. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 65 

eight days, and numbered Louis XIII. among its 
contributors. Louis furnished its military news. 
Richelieu and " Father Joseph" furnished its poli- 
tics. Neither Renaudot nor his protectors had any 
idea of what we call a " premier Paris " or an 
" article de fond " ; they had never seen such 
things and they would not have been capable of 
compassing such inventions. The Gazette was not 
a sheet of official information ; it did not contain 
matter enough for one page of the Joicrnal des 
D^bats. But the necessity of saying something 
to France was a crying one. It had become ab- 
solutely necessary to put modern royalty in com- 
munication with the nation, and to explain to the 
people at large the real meaning of the policy of 
the Prime Minister. The people must be taught 
why wars, alliances, and scaffolds were necessary. 
Something must be done to defend France against 
the attacks of Marie de Medicis and the cowardly 
Gaston. At that time placards and pamphlets ren- 
dered the services now demanded of the journals. 
By means of the placards the King could speak di- 
rectly to the people and take them to witness that 
he was in difficulty, and that he was trying to do 
his best. In his public letters he confided to them 
his family chagrins, and the motives of his conduct 
toward the foreign powers. His correspondence 
with his mother and his brothers was printed as 
fast as it was written or received by him. Apolo- 
gies for his conduct were supported by a choice of 
documents. From time to time the pamphlets were 



66 The Youth of 

collected and put in volumes — the volumes which 
were the ancestors of our " yellow books." 

I have before me one of these volumes, dated 
1639, without name of editor or publisher. It 
bears the title : Recueil de divers pieces pour servir 
a r histoire. Two thirds of its space are conse- 
crated to the King's quarrels with his family. Ma- 
demoiselle must have learned from it many things 
which she has not the air of suspecting. Perhaps 
she found it convenient or agreeable to be ignorant 
of them. In the pages of this instructive volume 
none of her immediate relations appear to any ad- 
vantage. Louis XIII. is invariably dry and bom- 
bastic, or constrained and affected ; he shows no 
trace of emotion when, in his letter of 23 February, 
1 63 1, he informs the people that 

being placed in the extremity of choosing between our mother 
and our minister we did not even hesitate, because they have 
embittered the Queen our very honoured lady and mother 
against our very dear and very beloved cousin. Cardinal de 
Richelieu; there being no entreaty, no prayer or supplica- 
tion, nor any consideration, public or private, that we have 
not put forward to soften her spirit; our said cousin recog- 
nising what he owes her, by reason of all sorts of considera- 
tions, having done all that he could do for her satisfaction ; 
the reverence that he bears her having carried him to the 
point of urging us and supplicating us, divers times, to find it 
good that he should retire from the management of our affairs; 
a request which the utility of his past services and the inter- 
ests of our authority have not permitted us to think of 
granting. . . . And recognising the fact that none of the 
authors of these differences continue to maintain their dispos- 
ition to diverge from our royal justice, we have not found a 



La Grande Mademoiselle 67 

way to avoid removing certain persons from our Court, nor 
even to avoid separating ourselves, though with unutterable 
pain, from the Queen, our very honoured lady and mother, 
during such time as may be required for the softening of her 
heart. . . . 

Another letter, from the King to his mother, is 
revolting in its harshness. After her departure 
from France, Marie de Medicis addressed to him 
some very tart pages in which she accused Riche- 
lieu of having had designs on her life. In the same 
letter she represented herself as flying from her 
son's soldiers : 

I will leave you to imagine my affliction when I saw 
myself in flight, pursued by the cavalry with which they had 
threatened me! so that I would be frightened and run the 
faster out of your kingdom; by that means constraining me to 
press on thirty leagues without either eating or drinking, to 
the end that I might escape from their hands. (Avesnes, 28 
July, 1631.) 

Instead of feeling pity for the plaints of the old 
woman who realised that she had been conquered, 
Louis XIII. replied : 

Madame, I am the more annoyed by your resolution to retire 
from my state because I know that you have no real reason for 
doing so. The imaginary prison, the supposititious persecu- 
tions of which you complain, and the fears that you profess to 
have felt at Compiegne during your life there, were as lacking 
in foundation as the pursuit that you pretend my cavalry made 
when you made your retreat. 

After these words, the King delivered a pompous 
eulogy on the Cardinal and ended it thus : 

You will permit me, an it please you, to tell you, Madame, 



68 The Youth of 

that the act that you have just committed, and all that has 
passed during a period more or less recent, make it impossible 
for me to be ignorant of your intentions in the past, and the 
action that I have to expect from you in the future. The re- 
spect that I owe to you hinders me from saying any more. 

It is true that Marie de Medicis received nothing 
that she did not deserve ; but it may be possible 
that it was not for her son to speak to her with 
brutahty. 

In their way Gaston's letters are chefs-d'ceuvre. 
They do honour to the psychological sensibility of 
the intelligent n^vrosS. Monsieur knew both the 
strength and the weakness of his brother. He 
knew him to be jealous, ulcerated by the conscious- 
ness of his own insignificance — an insignificance 
brought into full relief by the importance of the 
superior Being then hard at work making "of a 
France languishing a France triumphant " ^ ; and 
with marvellous art he found the words best quali- 
fied to irritate secret wounds. 

His letters open with insinuations to the effect 
that Richelieu had a personal interest in maintain- 
ing the enmity between "the King and his own 
brother," so that the King, "having no one to de- 
fend him," could be held more closely in his, Riche- 
lieu's, grasp. 

I beseech . . . your Majesty ... to have the 
gracious prudence to reflect upon what has passed, and to 
examine more seriously the designs of those who have been 

^ Recueil, Glc. Discours stir plusicurs points intportants de retat present 
des affaires de France. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 69 

the architects of these plans ; if you will graciously examine 
into this matter you will see that there are interests at stake 
which are not yours, — interests of a nature opposed to your 
interests, and which aim at something further, and something 
far in advance of anything that you have thought of up to 
the present time (March 23, 1631). 

In the followingf letter Monsieur addresses himself 
directly to Louis XIII. 's worst sentiments and to 
his kingly conscience. He feigns to be deeply 
grieved by the deplorable condition of his brother, 
who, as he says, is reduced, notwithstanding 

" the very great enlightenment of his mind " to the plight of a 
puppet . . . nothing but the shadow of a king, a being 
deprived of his authority, lacking in power as in will, counted 
as nothing in his own kingdom, devoid even of the external 
lustre ordinarily attached to the rank of a sovereign. 

Monsieur declares that Richelieu has left the Kingr 

" nothing but the name and the figure of a king," and that for 
a time only; for as soon as he has ridded ///wj^Z/^/jf?/^ . 
a?id of me! . . . he tneans to take the helm and steer the 
Ship of State in his ozvn name. 

Monsieur depicted the new " Mayor of the Palace " 
actually reigning in overburdened, crushed, and 
oppressed France, 

whom he has ruined and whose blood he has sucked pitilessly 
and without shame. In his own person he has consumed more 
than two hundred millions since he took the rule of your 
affairs . . . and he expends daily, in his own house, ten 
times more than you do in yours. . . . Let me tell you 
what I have seen ! In your kingdom not one third of your 
subjects eat bread made of wheat flour ; another third eats 



70 The Youth of 

bread made of oats ; and another third not only is reduced to 
beggary, but it is languishing in need so crying that some are 
actually starving to death ; those who are not dying of hunger 
are prolonging their lives with acorns, herbs, and like sub- 
stances, like the lower animals. And they who are least to be 
pitied among these last are living on bran and on blood which 
they pick up in the gutters in front of the butchers' shops. I 
have seen these things with my own eyes, and in different parts 
of the country, since I left Paris. 

In this Monsieur told the truth. The peasant 
had come to that point of physical degradation. 
But his sufferings could not be diminished by pro- 
voking a civil war, and Richelieu did not fail to 
make the fact plain in the polemics of the Recueil^ 
written under his supervision — when it was not 
written in his own hand. He (Richelieu) defended 
his policy tooth and nail, he justified his millions, 
his accumulated official honours. 

One of Monsieur's letters bears copious notes 
made throughout its length and breadth in the 
Cardinal's own hand. Without any of the scruples 
of false shame, he inspired long factums to the glory 
of the Prime Minister of France. 

In the pages inspired by him there are passages 
of peculiar inhumanity. In one place, justifying the 
King for the treatment inflicted upon his mother, 
he says that " the pain of the nine months that she 
carried him would have been sold by her at too 
high a price, had the King, because of it, been 
forced to let her set fire to his kingdom." ^ 

' Recueil, etc. Avertissenient aux provinces sur les nouveaux mouvements 
du royaume, by the Sieur de Cleonville (1631). 



La Grande Mademoiselle 71 

Other passages are equally heartless : " Do they 
blame the Prime Minister for his riches ? — and if the 
King had seen fit to give him more ? The King is 
free to give or to take away. Can he not act his 
pleasure ; who has the right to say him nay ? " 

The Recuezl shows passages teeming with cyni- 
cal and pampered pride. In favour of himself 
Richelieu wrote : 

The production of these great geniuses is not an ordin- 
ary bissextile work. Sometimes the revolution of four of 
Nature's centuries are required for the formation of a mind 
of such phenomenal proportions, in which are united all the 
excellencies, any one of which would be enough to set far 
above the ordinary character of man the being endowed with 
them. I speak not only of the virtues that are in some sort 
the essence of the profession made by their united representat- 
ive types, — Pity, Wisdom, Prudence, Moderation, Eloquence, 
Erudition, and like attributes, — I speak of other virtues, the 
characteristic qualities of another and separate order, like 
those composing the perfections of a chief of war . . , etc. 

Among the official documents in the volume just 
quoted are instruments whose publication would 
have put any man but Gaston d'Orleans under 
ground for the rest of his days, among other 
things, his treaty of peace (1632), signed at 
Beziers (20th September) after the battle of 
Castelnaudary, where the Due de Montmorency 
had been beaten and taken before his eyes. In 
that treaty Monsieur had pledged himself to 
abandon his friends, — not to take any interest in 
those who had been allied with him " on these 
occasions," and " not to pretend that he had any 



72 The Youth of 

cause for complaint when the King made them 
submit to what they deserved." He promised "to 
love, especially, his cousin Richelieu." In recom- 
pense for this promise and the other articles of 
the treaty the King re-established his brother " in 
all his rights." As we know, the treaty of Beziers 
ended nothing. Gaston saw all his partisans be- 
headed as he recrossed the frontier. He did not 
enter France to remain there until October, 1634. 
Then he went home " on the faith " of the Kings 
declaration, which closes the volume. By this 
declaration Monsieur was again re-established in 
the enjoyment of all his rights, appanages, pensions, 
and appointments. For him this was the import- 
ant article. As Richelieu took the trouble to 
have all his monuments of egotism and barrenness 
of heart re-imprinted, it is probable that he did not 
intend to let the country forget them. In that 
case he attained his ends. 

The public had formed its opinion, and in con- 
sequence it took no further interest in the royal 
family, always excepting Anne of Austria, who 
had retired among the shadows. 

Marie de Medicis was now free to cry aloud in 
her paroxysms of fury. Gaston could henceforth 
pose as a martyr, and Louis XIII., withered by 
melancholy, dried remnant of his former pompous 
dignity, might be blown into a corner or be borne 
away by the wind like a dead leaf in autumn, and 
not a soul in France would hail it by the quiver of 
an eyelash. If Richelieu had hoped that profit 



La Grande Mademoiselle 73 

would accrue to him from the royal unpopularity 
he had counted without the great French host. 
Despite the fact that his importance and the terror 
he inspired had increased tenfold, he also had be- 
come tainted by the insignificance of the royal 
family. But to all the people he seemed the ogre 
dreaded by Mademoiselle in her infancy, though 
indisputedly an unnatural ogre, possessing genius 
far beyond the reach of the normal man. He was 
universally looked upon as a leader of priceless 
value to a country in its hour of crisis, and as a 
companion everything but desirable. He appalled 
the people. His first interviews with Gaston after 
the young Prince's return to France were terri- 
ble. Monsieur was defenceless ; the Cardinal was 
pitiless. 

" Mademoiselle had run ahead to meet her father. 
In her innocence she had rejoiced to find him un- 
chanored." Richelieu also believed that Monsieur 
had not changed, and he was all the more anxious 
to get him out to his (Richelieu's) chateau at 
Rueil. He pretended that there was to be a fete at 
the chateau. Monsieur did not leave Rueil until 
he had opened his heart to the Cardinal, just as he 
had done in regard to the affair Chalais. 

Turned, and re-turned, by his terrible cousin, 
the unhappy wretch denounced mother and 
friends, — absent or present, — those who had 
plotted to overthrow the prime ministry and 
those who had (according to Gaston's story) 
tried to assassinate the Cardinal on such a day 



74 The Youth of 

and in such a place. " Not," said Richelieu in 
his M^mozres, — " not that Monsieur recounted these 
things of his own accord. He did not do that ; 
but the Cardinal asked him if it was not true that 
such a person had said such and such things, and 
he confessed, very ingenuously, that it was." 

Truly the fete at Rueil had sinister results for 
the friends of Monsieur. 

Monsieur retired to Blois, but he often returned 
to Paris, and whenever he returned he fulfilled his 
fatherly duties in his own fashion, romping and 
chattering with Mademoiselle. He amused him- 
self by listening to her songs against Richelieu, 
and for her pleasure he organised a corps-de-ballet 
of children. All the people of the Court flocked 
to the palace to witness the ballet. 

On the occasion of another ballet danced at the 
Louvre he displayed himself to Mademoiselle in 
all his glory (i8th February, 1635). The King, the 
Queen, and the principal courtiers of their suite 
were among the dancers. 

This last solemnity left mingled memories, both 
good and bad, in Mademoiselle's mind. One of 
her father's most faithful companions in exile was 
to have danced in the ballet. During a rehearsal, 
Richelieu had him arrested and conducted to the 
Wood of Vincennes, "where he died very sud- 
denly." ^ The r6le in which he should have acted 
was danced by one of the other courtiers, and 
therefore Gaston did not appear to be affected. 

' Memoires of Mademoiselle, 



La Grande Mademoiselle 75 

The Gazette informed the public that the fete had 
" succeeded admirably " ; that every one had carried 
away from the place so teeming with marvels the 
same idea that Jacob had entertained when, having 
looked upon the angels all the night, he believed 
that the earth touched the confines of heaven ! 
But, at least, there was one person for whom the 
sudden disappearance of Puylaurens had spoiled 
everything. Mademoiselle had " liked him and 
wished him well." He had won her heart by 
giving her bonbons, and she felt that the ugly 
history reflected upon her father. " I leave it," 
she said, '*to people better instructed and more 
enlightened than I am to speak of what Monsieur 
did afterward to Puylaurens' prison." 

The following year she had to swallow an insult 
on her own account. The lines which appeared in 
one of the gazettes of July, 1636, must have 
seemed insupportable to a child full of unchecked 
pride. 

" The 1 7th, Mademoiselle, aged nine years and 
three months, was baptised in the Louvre, in the 
Queen's chamber, by the Bishop of Auxerre, First 
Almoner to the King, having for godmother and 
godfather the Queen and the Cardinal Duke 
{Richelieii), and was named Anne Marie." 

Mention of this little event is made in Retz's 
Mhnoires. " M. le Cardinal was to hold at the font 
Mademoiselle, who, as you may judge, had been 
baptised long before ; but the ceremonies of the 
baptism had been deferred." 



76 The Youth of 

This godfather, who was not a prince, was a 
humihation to Mademoiselle, and to crown her 
distress he thought that he ought to make himself 
agreeable to his goddaughter. 

By his intention to be amiable he " made her 
beside herself" because he treated her — at nine 
years ! — as if she had been a little girl. " Every 
time that he saw me he told me that that spiritual 
alliance obliged him to take care of me, and that 
he would arrange a marriage for me (a discourse 
that he addressed to me, talking just as they do to 
children to whom they incessantly repeat the same 
thing)." 

A journey through France, which she made in 
1637, "put balm on the wounds of her pride." 
They chanted the Te Detim, the Army Corps 
saluted her, a city was illuminated, and the nobility 
offered her fetes. She " swam in joy " ; for thus she 
had always thought that the appearance of a per- 
son of her quality should be hailed. She ended 
her tour in Blois where Monsieur, the ever good 
father, desired that he, in person, should be the one 
to initiate his child in the morality of princes, 
which virtue in those aristocratic times had nothing 
in common with the bourgeois's morality. For the 
moment he was possessed of an insignificant mis- 
tress, a young girl of Tours called " Louison." 
Monsieur took his daughter to Tours so that he 
might present his mistress to her. Mademoiselle 
declared herself satisfied with her father's choice. 
She thought that Louison had " a very agreeable 



La Grande Mademoiselle n 

face, and a great deal of wit for a girl of that 
quality who had never been to Court." But 
Mine, de Saint Georges saw the new relations 
with an anxious eye ; she submitted her scruples 
to Monsieur : 

Madame de Saint Georges . . . asked him if the girl was good, 
because, otherwise, though she had been honoured by his good 
graces, she should be glad if she would not come to my 
house. Monsieur gave her every assurance and told her that 
he would not have wished for the girl himself without that 
condition. In those days I had such a horror of vice that I 
said to her: '* Maman (I called her thus), if Louison is not 
virtuous, even though my Papa loves her I will not see her 
at all; or if he wishes me to see her I will not receive her 
well." She answered that she was really a very good girl, and 
I was very glad of it, for she pleased me much — so I saw her 
often. 

Mademoiselle did not suspect that there was any- 
thing comical in this passage ; had she done so she 
would not have written it, because she was not one 
of those who admit that it is sometimes permissible 
to smile at the great. 

On her return from her journey she resumed her 
ordinary life. 

I passed the winter in Paris as I had passed my other 
winters. Twice a week I went to the assemblies given by 
Mme. the Countess de Soissons at the Hotel de Brissac. At 
these assemblies the usual diversions were comedies [plays] 
and dancing. I was very fond of dancing and, for love of me, 
they danced there very often. . . . 

There were also assemblies with comedies at 
the Queen's, at Richelieu's, and at a number of 



7^ The Youth of 

personages', and Mademoiselle herself received at 
the Tuileries. 

The night of the 23d-24th January (1636) [reports the 
Gazeite] Mademoiselle in her lodgings at the Tuileries, gave a 
comedy and a ball to the Queen, where the Good Grace of this 
princess in the dawn of her life, gave proof of what her noon- 
tide is to be. The 24th February, Monsieur gave a comedy 
and a collation to His Royal Highness of Parma at Mademoi- 
selle his daughter's, in her apartments at the Tuileries. 

Mademoiselle passed the days and the nights in 
f6tes. Her studies did not suffer by it because she 
never studied and never knew anything of study 
outside of reading and writing, making a courtesy, 
and carefully observing the rules of a minute 
etiquette. 

It is probable that she owed the little that she 
knew to several months of forced retreat in a con- 
vent, when she was nine years old. She made 
herself so intolerable to every one, — it is she 
who tells it, — she was so vexatious, with her 
" grimaces " and her " mockeries," that they put her 
in a cloister to try to discipline her and to correct 
her faults ; the plan succeeded : " They saw me re- 
turn . . . wiser, and better than I had been." 
Yes, more sober, better behaved, and a little less 
ignorant, but not much less. The following letter, 
bearing the date of her maturity, shows more clearly 
than all the descriptions in the world, the degree of in- 
structions which satisfied the seventeenth century's 
ideas of the education of a princess. The letter is 
addressed to Colbert ("a Choisyce 5 Aout 1665"): 



La Grande Mademoiselle 79 

Monsieur, le sieur Segrais qui est de la cademy et qui a bo- 
coup travalie pour la gloire du Roy et pour le public, aiant este 
oublie lannee passee dans les gratifications que le Roy a faicts 
aux baus essprit ma prie de vous faire souvenir de luy set un 
aussi homme de merite et qui est amoi il ya long tarns jespere 
que cela ne nuira pas a vous obliger a avoir de la considera- 
tion pour luy set se que je vous demande et de une croire, 
monsieur Colbert, etc. 

This orthography did not hinder Mademoiselle 
when, under the name of "Princess Cassandane" 
she fiofured in the Grand Dictionnaire des Prd- 
cieuses ; and according to the distinctions estab- 
lished between the "true precieuse''' and the 
" Savante " by Mademoiselle de Scudery, she had a 
right to figure there, as had many of her noble con- 
temporaries, who would have been the shame of 
the humblest of the schools. 

The " true prScieuse^' she who left comets and 
the Greek language to the '' Savantes" applied her- 
self to the task of penetrating the mysteries of 
the heart. That was her science, and from cer- 
tain points of view It was worth as much as any 
other. 

La Grande Mademoiselle devoted her talents 
and her life to the perfection of her particular art. 
Keeping well within the limits that she herself had 
set, she made a special study of the hearts of prin- 
cesses and of everything concerning them ; and she 
professed that she had established, definitely, the 
only proper methods by which persons of her qual- 
ity should, bound in duty to themselves, look upon 
love, and upon glory. 



So La Grande Mademoiselle 

The wells from which she drew her spiritual 
draughts were not exclusively her own ; she shared 
their benefits with all honest people, of either sex, 
engaged in completing the sentimental education 
by the essential principle of life. 



CHAPTER II 

Anne of Austria and Richelieu — Birth of Louis XIV. — II. LAstrie 
and its Influence — III. Transformation of the Public Manners — 
The Creation of the Salon — The Hotel de Rambouillet and Men of 
Letters. 



BUT little information concerning the affairs of 
the day previous to the last months of the 
reign of Louis XIII. can be gleaned from the 
Mdmoires of La Grande Mademoiselle. It is hardly- 
credible that a young girl raised at the Court of 
France, not at all stupid, and because of her birth 
so situated as to see and to hear everything, could 
have gone through some of the most thrilling 
catastrophes of that tragic time without seeing 
or hearing anything. At a later day Mademoiselle 
was the first to wonder at it ; she furnishes an 
example surpassing imagination. 

In 1637, before starting on her journey into 
the province, she went to bid adieu to " their 
Majesties," who were at Chantilly. Mademoiselle 
fell upon a drama. Richelieu had just disgraced 
the Queen of France, who had been declared 
guilty of abusing her religious retreat at the 
Convent of Val-de-Grace by holding secret cor- 
respondence with Spain. Val-de-Grace had been 

31 



82 The Youth of 

ransacked, and one of Anne of Austria's servants 
had been arrested. Anne herself had been ques- 
tioned hke a criminal, and she had had a very bitter 
tete-a-tete in her chamber with such a Richelieu as 
she had never met before. 

It was then ten years since Louis XIII., abruptly 
entering his wife's private apartments, had inter- 
rupted a declaration of love made by his Minister. 
After Marie de Medicis, Anne of Austria ! Evi- 
dently it was a system of policy in which pride of 
personal power played its part. Possibly the heart 
also played some small role when Anne of Austria 
was young and beautiful ; but it was the heart of a 
Richelieu, and unless we know what such a thing is 
like it is difficult to explain the Minister's attitude 
at Chantilly. Historians have not taken the trouble 
to tell us, because there were things more import- 
ant to them and to the history of Europe than the 
exploits of so high-flying a Cardinal. Neverthe- 
less, even an historian could have made an interest- 
ing chapter out of the sentimental life of Richelieu. 
It was a violent and cruel life ; as violent and as 
pitiless as the passions that haunted his harrowed 
soul. Michelet compared the Duke's life to "a 
lodging that had been ransacked." In him love 
was a cloak thickly lined with hatred. Mme. de 
Motteville, who witnessed Richelieu's courtship 
of the Queen, was astonished by his way of 
making love. "The first marks of his affection," 
she writes, " were his persecutions of her. They 
burst out before everybody, and we shall see that 



La Grande Mademoiselle 83 

this new way of loving will last as long as the 
Cardinal lives." 

Anne of Austria felt only his persecutions. 
Richelieu was not pleasing to women. He was 
the earthly All-powerful. He possessed riches and 
genius, but they knew that he was cruel — even 
pitiless — in anger ; and he could not persuade 
them to pretend to love him ; all, even Marion 
de Lorme, mocked and laughed at him, and Retz 
gave a reason for their conduct : 

Not being a pedant in anything else, he was a thorough 
pedant in gallantry, and this is the fault that women never 
pardon. The Queen detested Richelieu, and she made him 
feel it ; but he took his revenge at Val-de-Grace. After the 
outburst — after the word treason had been spoken — it rested 
with him to have mercy, or to send into shameless banishment 
the barren Queen. It gave him pleasure to see her cowering 
before him, frightened and deprived of all her pride. He 
exulted in disdaining her with an exaggerated and insulting 
affectation of respect, and fearing lest the scene should not 
be known to posterity, he painted it with all the zest of the 
reaction of his wounded dignity.' He listened complacently 
while she drove the nails into her coffin, rendering more 
proofs of her docility " than he should have dared to ex- 
pect " ; incriminating herself, as she explained in her own 
way, by palpable untruths, all her treasonable letters to her 
brothers and to her friends in Spain. When she had told a 
great deal more than she knew, Richelieu put a few sharp 
questions, and the Queen completely lost her head. 

Then [wrote Richelieu, in his chronicle] she confessed 
to the Cardinal everything which is in the paper signed by 

' Relation de ce que c'est pass/ en Vaffaire de la reyne au mois d'aodt, 
i6j7, sui le sujet de la Porte et de VAbbesse du Val-de-Grdce. See docu- 
ment in the Bibliotheque National. 



84 The Youth of 

her afterwards. She confessed with much displeasure and 
confusion, because she had taken oaths contrary to what she 
was confessing. While she made the said confession to the 
Cardinal her shame was such that she cried out several times, 
" Oh, how kind you must be, Monsieur the Cardinal ! " pro- 
testing that all her life she should be grateful and recog- 
nise the obligation she was under to those who drew her out 
of the affair. She had the honour to say to the Cardinal : 
" Give me your hand," presenting her own as a mark of the 
fidelity with which she should keep all her promises. Through 
respect the Cardinal refused to give her his hand. From the 
same motive he retired instead of approaching her. 

Officially Louis XIII. pardoned the intrigue of 
Val-de-Grace, but the courtiers were not deceived, 
and they immediately deserted the Queen's apart- 
ment. When they passed her windows they 
modestly lowered their eyes. It was just at that 
time that Mademoiselle arrived. It was at the 
end of August. She read her welcome in every 
face. Now that she had come gayety became a 
duty and amusements an obligation. The feeling 
of relief was general. Mademoiselle wrote : 

I put all the Court in good humour. The King was in 
great grief because of the suspicions they had awakened 
against the Queen, and not long before that they had found 
the strong box that had made all the trouble at Val-de- 
Grace, about which too much has been said already. I found 
the Queen in bed, sick. Any one would be sick after such an 
affront as she had received. 

Of all at Court, Anne of Austria was not the 
least happy to see Mademoiselle. Now she could 
pour out her sorrow. Mme. de Saint Georges, 
Mademoiselle's governess, was one of her familiar 





""fti. 




w 


,.:^^ ■ • " ' 


. 



CARDINAL RICHELIEU 



La Grande Mademoiselle 85 

friends. The Queen told her everything. Made- 
moiselle was permitted to sit with the two ladies 
to avert suspicion. So the child found herself in 
possession of secrets whose importance and danger 
must have been known to her. It may be that she 
would have liked nothing better than to recount 
them in her memoirs, but she was " forced to admit 
with sheepish reticence that to her grief she had 
never remembered anything of it." 

Some months later she was entangled in the 
King's romance with Mile, de Hautefort, and ''did 
not notice anything" — and this is to her credit — 
of all the struggles made by the Cabals to turn the 
adventure to their profit. In spite of her lack of 
memory she had opened wide both eyes and ears. 
The schemes of lovers always interested her, as 
they interest all little girls. To this instinct of her 
sex we owe a very pretty picture of the trans- 
formation of man by love. And the man was no 
other than the annoying and annoyed Louis XIII. 
Mademoiselle gives us the picture in default of 
more serious proof of her observation. Hunting 
was the King's chief pleasure. 

In 1638, during the luminous springtime, he 
was seen in the forests gay, at times actually 
happy — thanks to two great blue eyes. When he 
followed his dogs he took his niece and other 
young people with him that he might have an ex- 
cuse for taking Mile, de Hautefort. 

We were all dressed in colours [recounts Mademoiselle]. 
We were on fine, ambling horses, richly caparisoned, and to 



86 The Youth of 

guarantee us against the sun each of us had a hat trimmed 
with a quantity of plumes. They always turned the hunt so 
that it should pass fine and handsome houses where grand 
collations could be found, and, coming home, the King placed 
himself in my coach, between Mme. de Hautefort and me. 
When he was in good humour he conversed very agreeably to 
us of everything. At that time he suffered us to speak freely 
enough of the Cardinal de Richelieu, and the proof that it 
did not displease him was that he spoke thus himself. 

Immediately after the hunting party returned they went to 
the Queen. I took pleasure in serving at her supper, and her 
maids carried the dishes (viands). There was a regular pro- 
gramme. Three times a week we had music, they of the 
King's chamber sang, and the most of the airs sung by them 
were composed by the King. He wrote the words, even; and 
the subject was never anything but Mme. de Hautefort, The 
King was in humour so gallant that at the collations that he gave 
us in the country he did not sit at table at all; and he served 
us nearly everything himself, though his civility had only one 
object. He ate after us, and did not seem to feel more com- 
plaisance for Mme. de Hautefort than for the others, so afraid 
was he that some one should perceive his gallantry. 

Despite these precautions, the Court and the city, 
Paris, and the province were informed of the least 
incidents of an affair of such importance. The 
only person whom the King's passion left indif- 
ferent was the Queen. Anne of Austria had never 
been jealous. She did not consider Louis XIII. 
worth the pains of jealousy, — and now jealousy 
would have been out of place. Anne, after twenty- 
three years of marriage, was enceinte. The people 
who had loaded her with outrages while she was 
bowed by shame now knelt at her feet, sincere 



La Grande Mademoiselle 87 

in their respectful demonstrations of devotion for 
the wife of the King who might one day become 
Queen-mother, or even Regent of France. It was 
like one of the fairy plays in a theatre. Nature 
had waved her wand, and the disgraced victim of 
enchantment had arisen " clothed on with majesty." 
It was an edifying and delightful transformation. 
After all her shame, the novelty of being cared for 
and treated gently was so great and so agreeable 
that when she saw her royal spouse sighing be- 
fore the virtuous and malignant de Hautefort — 
"whose chains" were said to be heavy and hard to 
bear — she looked upon it very lightly. Anne of 
Austria smiled at the benumbed attitudes of the 
King, at his awkward ardour, and equally awkward 
prudery. The Queen learned with amusement 
that when among her companions, the young girls 
of the Court, Mile, de Hautefort mocked the 
King, and boasted that he " dared not approach 
her, though he maintained her," and that she was 
" bored to death by his talk of dogs, and birds, and 
the hunt." Friends repeated these criticisms. 
Louis XIII. heard of them and took offence "at 
the ingrate," and the Court went into mourning. 
" If there should be some serious quarrel between 
them," wrote Mademoiselle, "all the comedies and 
the entertainments will be over. At that time, when 
the King came to the Queen's apartments, he did 
not speak to anybody, and nobody dared to speak 
to him. He sat in a corner, and very often he 
yawned and went to sleep. It was a species of 



88 The Youth of 

melancholy which chilled the whole world, and 
during this grief he passed the most of the time 
writing what he had said to Mme. de Hautefort, 
and what she had answered. It is so true that 
after he died they found great bundles of papers 
recounting all his differences with his mistresses — to 
the praise of whom it must be said, and to his 
praise also, that he had never loved any women 
who were not very virtuous." 

Mademoiselle never seemed to realise the politi- 
cal importance of the King's favourites. That 
subject, like all else serious, escaped her. She 
writes : 

" I listened to all that they told me — all that I 
was old enough to hear." 

We need not hope to learn from her what 
Richelieu thought of the King's chaste affection ; 
why, though he had encouraged it, he was angered 
by it ; why he looked with disfavour upon Mile, 
de Lafayette, and manipulated her affairs so well 
that he introduced her into the cell of a convent, 
and ordered the King to take medicine whenever 
he suspected that Louis aspired to contemplate 
her through the grating of her prison ; if Made- 
moiselle had ever known such things "they had 
never presented themselves to her, memory." 
Nor will it do us any good to search her memoirs 
for reasons making it clear why Louis XIII., who 
worked incessantly against Richelieu, and " did 
not love him," sacrificed, for the Cardinal's pleasure, 
all his friends and near relations. Throughout all 



La Grande Mademoiselle 89 

the reverses of 1635 and 1636, when France was 
trembling under the trampling feet of the invader, 
when the enemy's skirmishers lay at the gates of 
Pontoise, the King was faithful to the dictator, 
whose policy had drawn ruin on the nation. 
Mademoiselle had never known these things. They 
had been far below her horizons. The ungrateful 
years had buffeted her as they passed. She had 
been pretty and sprightly in early childhood. At 
the age of eleven she was a buxom girl, with 
swollen cheeks, thick lips, and a stupid mien, — in 
a word : a frankly ill-favoured creature, too absorbed 
in the preoccupations of animal life (the need to 
skip and jump, to be seen and heard) to listen, to 
observe, or to reflect. The Queen's condition 
gave her one more occasion to manifest the lengths 
to which she had carried her innocence, though 
she had lived in a world where innocence was not 
regarded as the most important item in an outfit. 
She rejoiced that there was to be a Dauphin. 
Evidently she did not know that his advent would 
strip her father of his rights as heir-presumptive 
to the throne. In her own words, she "rejoiced 
without the least reflection." Anne of Austria was 
touched by a simpleness of heart to which her life 
had not accustomed her. " You shall be my 
daughter-in-law ! " she cried repeatedly to her 
young niece. For she could not bear the thought 
that the child's later reflections mieht awake 
regret. 

Mademoiselle embraced the idea only too 



90 The Youth of 

ardently, and to it she owed one of the bitterest 
hours of her existence. 

The child who was to be Louis XIV. was born at 
the Chateau of Saint Germain, 5th September, 1638. 
Mademoiselle made him her toy. She writes : 
" The birth of Monsieur the Dauphin gave me a 
new occupation. I went to see him every day and 
I called him my little husband. The King was 
diverted by this and he thought that I did well." 
She had counted without her godfather the Cardi- 
nal, who was more of a Croquemitaine, and more 
of a spoil-sport than he had ever been. He con- 
sidered her childish talk very indecorous. Made- 
moiselle pursues : 

Cardinal de Richelieu, who does not like me to accustom 
myself to being there, nor to have them accustomed to seeing 
me there, had me given orders to return to Paris. The Queen 
and Mme. de Hautefort did all that was possible to keep me. 
They could not obtain their wish, — which I regretted. It was 
all tears and cries when I left there. Their Majesties gave 
many proofs of friendship, especially the Queen, who made 
me aware of a particular tenderness on that occasion. After 
this displeasure I had still another to endure. They made me 
pass through Rueil to see the Cardinal, who usually lived 
there when the King was at Saint Germain. He took it so to 
heart that I had called the little Dauphin iny little husband 
that he gave me a great reprimand: he said that I was too 
large to use such terms ; that I had been ill-behaved to 
do so. He spoke so seriously — just as if I had been a 
person of judgment — that, without answering him, I began to 
weep. To pacify me he gave me collation, but I did not 
pass it over. I came away from there very angry at all he 
had said to me. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 91 

Richelieu meant that his orders should be obeyed. 
Mademoiselle adds : " When I was in Paris I only 
went to Court once in two months ; and when I 
did go there I only dined with the Queen and 
then returned to Paris to sleep." It must be said 
that if the Cardinal had submitted to it for a 
night or two, she might have found it difficult to 
sleep at the chateau. At that time our kings had 
strange and very inconvenient arrangements for 
receiving guests ; their household appointments 
had brought them to such a pass that they had 
suppressed their guest-chamber. When the royal 
family went to Saint Germain there was a regular 
house-moving ; they carried all their furniture with 
them, and nothing was left in the Louvre, — not 
even enough for the King to sleep on when busi- 
ness called him to the capital. Henry IV., a 
monarch who did not stand on ceremony, invited 
himself to the house of some lord or of some rich 
bourgeois, where he put himself at his ease, receiv- 
ing the Parliament, and also his fair friends, and 
bidding adieu to his hosts only when he was ready 
to go home. He took leave of them in his own 
time and at his own hour. 

The timid Louis XIII. had never dared to 
do such things ; he had never thought of hav- 
ing two beds : one in the city, the other in the 
country. 

When the Court came back to Paris they 
brought all their furniture ; not a mattress was left 
in the palace at Saint Germain. This singular 



92 The Youth of 

custom had evolved another, which appears to us 
to have lacked hospitality. When the King of 
France invited distinguished guests, he never fur- 
nished their rooms. He offered them the four 
walls, and let them arrange themselves as best they 
could. From as far back as people could remem- 
ber, they had seen the great arrive at the chateau 
closely followed by their beds, their curtains, and 
even their cooks and their stew-pans. This was 
the case with Monsieur and his daughter ; and so 
it was with Mazarin, in the following reign. Made- 
moiselle was not ignorant of the peculiar methods 
of the royal housekeeping. She knew that the 
King's friends could not be made comfortable for 
the night, on the spur of the moment, and she 
rested very well in Versailles, and thought of 
nothing- but her amusements. 

The people saw a gratuitous malevolence in her 
exile from Court ; but the Fronde proved the just- 
ice of the Cardinal's action. La Grande Mademoi- 
selle made civil war to constrain Mazarin to marry 
her to Louis XIV., who was eleven years her 
junior. Her godfather had guessed well : the 
idea of being Queen had germinated rapidly in 
the little head in which the influence of Astr^e — 
still active despite its age — was busily forming 
romantic visions far in advance of its generation. 
D'Urfe died in 1620 ; to his glory be it said that 
we are obliged to go back to him and to his 
work when we would explain the moral state of 
the later days. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 93 

II 

Few books in any country or in any time have 
equalled the fortune of Asir^e,' a pastoral romance 
in ten volumes, in which the different effects of 
honest friendship are deduced from the lives of 
shepherds and others, under a long title in the 
style of the century. Honore d'Urfe's work im- 
mediately became the " code of polite society " and 
of all who aspired to appear polite. Everything 
was aV Astrde — fashions, sentiments, language, the 
games of society, and the conversation of love. 
The infatuation extended to classes of society who 
read but little. In a comedy familiar to the lesser 
bourgeoisie," some one reproached marriageable 
girls for permitting themselves to be captured by 
the insipid flattery of the first coxcomb who ad- 
dresses them thus: 

Bien poli, bien frise 



Pourvu qu' il sache un mot des livres d'Astree. 

Success had crossed the frontiers of France. People 
in foreign lands found material for their instruction 
in Astr^e. The work was a novel with a key ; a 

' The first part appeared in 1610, or perhaps [says M. Brunetiere], in 
161 8. The rest followed at long intervals. The four last volumes bear 
date 1627 and consequently are posthumous. The part written by d'Urfe 
cannot be distinguished from the part written by Baro, who continued the 
work begun by d'Urfe. 

^ Alanuel de Vhistoire de la liit^ratiirc fr an false, by M. Ferdinand Bru- 
netiere. Cf . En Bourbonnais ct en Forez, by Emile Montegut, and Le roman 
(XVII. Century) by Paul Morillot in Vhistoire de la langue et de la HMrature 
fran^aise, published under the direction of M. Petit de JuUeville. Les 
vendances de Sui-esnes, by Pierre du Ryer. 



94 The Youth of 

story with a meaning. " Celadon " was the author ; 
" Astree " was his wife (the beautiful Diane de Cha- 
teaumorand, with whom he had not been happy). 
The Court oile grand Enric -wdiS the Court of Henry 
IV. " Galatee " was the Queen (Marguerite) and 
so on. "All the stories in Astrde were founded on 
truth," wrote Patru, who had gathered his informa- 
tion from the lips of d'Urfe. But "the author has 
romanced everything — if I dare use the word." 
The charm found in the scandalous reality of the 
scenes and in the truth of the characters crowned 
the work's success ; the book was translated in 
most languages, and devoured with the same avid- 
ity by all countries. In Germany there was an 
AcadSmie des Vrais Amants copied from the 
"Academy" of Lignon. In Poland, in the last half 
of the century, John Sobieski, who was not by any 
means one of the be-musked knights of the carpet, 
played at Astree and Celadon, with Marie d'Ar- 
quien. " To grass with the matrimonial love which 
turns to friendship at the end of three months ! . 
Celadon am I, now as in the past ; the ardent 
lover of those first glad days ! " ^ he wrote after 
marriaore. 

When the people's infatuation had passed, the 
book still remained the standard of all delicate 
minds, and it continued to wield its literary influ- 
ence. 

Through two centuries [said Montegut] Astree lost no- 
thing of its renown. The most diverse and the most opposite 

' Waliszeffski : Marysienka. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 95 

minds alike loved the book ; Pellisson and Huet the Bishop 
of Avranches were enthusiastic admirers of its qualities. La 
Fontaine and Mme. de Sevigne delighted in it. Racine, in his 
own silent and discreet way, read it with fond pleasure and 
profit, but did not say so. 

Marivaux had read it and drawn even more benefit from it 
than Racine. . . . Last of all, Jean Jacques Rousseau 
admired it so much that he avowed that he had re-read it 
once a year the greater part of his life. Now as Jean Jacques 
exerted a dominant influence upon the destinies of our modern 
inaginative literature, it follows that the success of Astree has 
been indirectly prolonged even to our own day. Madame 
George Sand, for example, derived som.e little benefit from 
d'Urfe, though she was not too well aware of it. 

Montegut had forgotten the Abbe Prevost ; but 
M. Brunetiere repairs the omission, and adds: " One 
may say that Astries success shaped the channel 
for the chief current of our modern literature." 

Its social influence was equal to its influence 
upon literature. And yet, to-day, not one of all 
the books that had their time of glory and of popu- 
larity is more neglected. No one reads Astrde 
now, and no one can read it ; with the best will in 
the world, the most indulgent must throw the book 
down, bored by its dulness. It has become impos- 
sible to endure the five thousand pages of the 
amorous dissertations of the shepherds of Lignon. 
At the best such a debauch of subtlety would be 
only tolerable, even had it emanated from a writer 
of genius. And d'Urfe had no genius ; he had 
nothinof but talent. 

D'Urfe was a little gentleman of Forez, whom his 



The Youth of 

epoch (he was born in 1568) had permitted to ex- 
amine the society of the Valois. We know that no 
social body was ever more corrupt ; nevertheless 
those who saw it were dazzled by it ; and because 
they had looked upon it they were considered — 
in the time of Louis XIII. — exquisitely elegant 
and polite ; they were regarded as the survivors of 
a superior civilisation. 

The ladies of the Court of Anne of Austria were 
proud of their power to attract the notice of the 
elderly noblemen " thanks to whom," in the words 
of a contemporary writer, "remnants of the polite 
manners brought by Catherine de Medicis from 
Italy were still seen in France." The homage of 
the antique gentlemen was insistent, of a kind which 
refuses to be repelled. Even the Queen accepted it. 
Anne of Austria, whose habitually correct attitude 
was notable, felt that she was constrained to receive 
the attentions of the old Due de Bellegarde, 
though the Duke's character and customs were 
notorious. Due de Belleo^arde had been one of 
the deplorable favourites of Henri III. 

Anne of Austria was hypercritical in regard to 
forms of conversation ; her own language was fas- 
tidiously delicate ; she exacted minute attention to 
the superficial details of civility ; yet the notorious de 
Bellegarde sat at ease before the Court, displaying 
all the peculiar gallantry of his epoch, " and," said 
the Queen's friend, Mme. de Motteville, " it was the 
more noticeable and the fame of it was the more 
scandalous because the Queen did not hesitate to 



La Grande Mademoiselle 97 

accept from him incense whose smoke might well 
blacken her reputation. The Queen permitted the 
Duke to treat her as he had treated the women of 
his own day, a day when gallantry and women 
reigned." 

The civil wars swept away the splendid but rot- 
ten world, but the prestige of the Valois still as- 
serted its power. 

In 1646, a posthumous romantic tale appeared 
in Paris, entitled Orasie. It was generally attributed 
to the pen of Mile, de Senterre, a maid-of-honour 
of the Court of Catherine de Medicis. " This 
book," said the editorial preface, " is a true history, 
full of very choice events ; there is nothing fictitious 
in it but the names given to its heroes and its 
heroines. Orasie is a mirror reflecting the most 
magnificent and the most pompous of kingly 
Courts, the Court where reigned the truest civility 
and the purest politeness, where false gallantry, like 
base action, was unknown." 

The Court thus euloeised had been the centre of 
delicate mannerism and the incubating cell of the 
refinement of vice. Though the civil wars had 
annihilated the splendid rottenness of the Court, the 
memory of the delicacy of the Valois survived. 
When peace was declared, when men had leisure to 
look about them, they were confronted by the rude 
Court of Henry IV. They felt the need of a 
re-establishment of polite society, but where could 
they find the elements of such society? Foreign 
influences had enervated the national imagination. 



98 The Youth of 

Spanish literature with its romances of cruel chiv- 
alry, its pastorals, and its theatrical dramas had 
imbued the Romanticism of France with its poison, 
and symptoms of moral debility were generally 
evident. A period of fermentation and expectancy 
follows war. When the civil wars were over, the 
men of France sat waiting ; their need was pressing, 
but they could form no idea of its nature. At such 
a time the eager watchmen on the towers acclaim the 
bearer of tidings, be they tidings of good or of evil. 
Honore d'Urfe's chief merit lay in the fact that 
he was the man of the hour, he came when he was 
most needed, holding the mirror up to nature, and 
clearly reflecting the common feeling. If I may 
use the term, he presented his countrymen with 
an intelligent mirror reflecting their confused and 
agitated aspirations. Nature and occasion had fitted 
him for his work : he had all the accessories and all 
the requirements of his art ; best of all, he had the 
imperious vocation which is the first and the essen- 
tial qualification of authorship, without which no 
man should have the hardihood to lay hold upon 
an inkstand. D'Urfe knew that war demoralises 
a people ; he comprehended the situation of his 
country ; he had been a member of the League, and 
one of the last to surrender. He knew that the 
spirit of love was hovering over France, waiting to 
find a resting-place. Francois de Sales and d'Urfe 
were friends, and in such close communion of 
thought that, to quote the words of Montegut, 
" there was not a simple analogy, there was almost 



La Grande Mademoiselle 99 

an identity of inspiration and of talent between 
Astrde and the Introduction a la vie devote.'' 

D'Urfe had only to remember the sestheticism 
which surrounded his expanding youth to compre- 
hend the general weariness caused by the lack of 
intellectual symmetry and by the rusticity of the 
manners of the new reign. He was a serious and 
thoughtful man ; he had devoted long months, even 
years, to meditation and to study before he had 
touched his pen, and by repeated revisions he had 
ranged in his book the greater part of the thoughts 
and the aspirations of his epoch. In a word, the 
obscure provincial writer who had never entered the 
Louvre had composed a quasi-universal work re- 
suming- all the intellectual and sentimental life of an 
epoch. AstrSe was a powerful achievement; but one, 
or at most but two, such books can be produced in 
a century.^ D'Urfe's laborious efforts attained a 
double result. While he extricated and brought 
into the light the ideal for which he had searched 
years together, he excited his contemporaries to 
strive to be natural and real, and the first French 
novel, Astrde, was our first romance with a thesis. 
The subject is commonplace : lovers whose theme 
is love, and a lovers' quarrel ; in the last volume of 
the book, love triumphs, the quarrel is forgotten, 
and the lovers marry. 

In the beginning of the work, the shepherdess 
Astrde, beside herself with causeless jealousy, over- 
whelms the shepherd Celadon with reproaches and 

'-• '^^ > Paul Morillot, loc. cit. 



loo The Youth of 

Celadon, tired of life, throws himself Into the Lig- 
non. Standing upon the bank of the river, he 
apostrophises a ring and the riband left in his hand 
when his shepherdess escaped his grasp : 

" Bear witness, O dear cord ! that rather than break one 
knot of my affections I will renounce my life, and then, 
when I am dead, and my cruel love beholds thee in my hand, 
thou shalt speak for me, thou shalt say that no one could be 
loved as I loved her. . . . Nor lover wronged like me ! " 
Then he appeals to the ring. " And thou, emblem of eter- 
nal, faithful love, be glad to be with me in death, the only 
token left me of her love ! " 

Hardly has he spoken when, turning his face to- 
ward Astrde, he springs with folded arms into the 
water. The nymphs save him, and his romantic 
adventures serve as the wire carrying the action 
of the romance. 

But the system is inadequate to Its strain. Dead 
cars bring about a constantly recurring block, and 
more than an hundred personages of more or 
less importance stop the way by their gallant in- 
trigues. The romance mirrors the passing loves and 
the fevered and passionate life of the be-rlbanded 
people who hung up their small arms in their pan- 
oplies, twisted their lances into pruning-hooks, and 
replaced the pitiless art of war by the political arts 
of peace. Honore d'Urfe's heroes appear to be 
more jealously careful of their fine sentiments 
than of the sword-thrusts lavishly distributed by 
the lords and gentlemen of their days. They are 
much more zealous in their search for elegant ex- 
pressions than in bestirring themselves to serious 



La Grande Mademoiselle loi 

action. The perfumed students of phraseology 
have changed since the night of Saint Bartholo- 
mew, when more than one of them fought side by 
side with Henry de Guise ; but it is not difficult 
to recognise the precursors of the Fronde in the 
druids, shepherds, and chevaliers of Astrde, and so 
thought d'Urfe's first readers. 

With extreme pleasure they contemplated them- 
selves in the noble puppets seen in the romance, 
basking in the sun of peace. Away with care ! 
They had nothing worse to fight than lovers' cas- 
uistries, and they lay in the shadows of the trees, 
enjoying the riches of a country redeemed by their 
own blood. With them were their ladies ; lover and 
lass were disguised as shepherd and shepherdess, 
or as mythological god and goddess. Idle and ele- 
gant as they were, the happy lovers had been tor- 
tured by wounds, racked by pride, stung by the fire 
of battle; to sleep for ever had been the vision of 
many a bivouac, and now war was over, and to lie 
in a day-dream fanned by the summer winds and 
watched by the eye of woman, — this was the evolu- 
tion of the hope of death ! This was the restorative 
desired by the provincial nobles when they stood 
firm as rocks in ranks thinned and broken by 
thirty years of civil and religious war. Such a 
rest the jaded knights had hoped for when they 
accepted their one alternative, and, by their recogni- 
tion of Henry IV., acknowledged submission to a 
principal superior to private interest and personal 
ambition. 



I02 The Youth of 

The high nobihty had soon tired of order and 
obedience. Never was it more turbulent or more 
undisciphned than under Louis XIII. and in the 
minority of Louis XIV., but it must be noted as 
one of the signs of the times that it no longer 
carried its jaunty ease of conscience into its plots 
and its mutinies. Curious proofs of this fact are 
still in existence ; the revolting princes and lords 
stoutly denied that they had taken arms against the 
King, If they had openly made war, and so pal- 
pably that they could not deny it, they invariably 
asserted with affirmations that they had done it "to 
render themselves useful to the King's service." 
Gaston d'Orleans grave the same reason for his 
conduct when he deserted France for a foreign 
country. All averred that they had been impelled 
to act by a determination to force the King to 
accept deliverance from humiliating tyranny, or 
from pernicious influences. During the Fronde, 
when men changed parties as freely as they changed 
their gloves, the rebels protested their fidelity to 
the King, and they did it because the idea of 
infidelity was abhorrent to them. 

No one in France would have admitted that it 
could be possible to hold personal interests or 
personal caprice above the interests of the State, 
and in the opinion of the French cavalier this 
would have been reason enough for any action ; but 
there was a more practical reason ; the descendants 
of the great barons were beginning to doubt their 
power to maintain the assertion of their so-called 



La Grande Mademoiselle 103 

rights. By suggesting subjects for the meditations 
of all the people of France who could read or write 
Astrde had contributed a novelty in scruples. In 
our day such a book as Astrde would excite no 
interest ; the reiteration of the ** torrents of tender- 
ness " to which it owed its sentimental influence 
would make it a doubtful investment for any 
publisher, and even the thoughtful reader would 
find its best pages difTficult reading ; but when all is 
said and done, it remains, and it shall remain, the 
book which best divines our perpetually recurring 
and eternal necessities. 

It treats of but one passion, love, and yet it 
gives the most subtle study in existence. In it all 
the ways of loving are minutely analysed in inter- 
minable conversations. All the reasons why man 
should love are given, with all the reasons why he 
should not love. All the joys found by the lover 
in his sufferings are set forth, with all the sufferings 
that his joys reserve for him. All the reasons for 
fidelity and all the reasons for inconstancy are openly 
dissected. A complete list is given of all the in- 
tellectual sensations of love (and of some sensations 
which are not intellectual). In short, Astrde is a 
diagnosis of the spiritual, mental, and moral con- 
dition of the love-sick. It contains all the ** cases 
of conscience " which may or might arise, under 
the same or different circumstances, in the lives of 
people who live to love, and who, thus loving, see 
but one reason for existence — people who severally 
or individually, each in his own way and according 



I04 The Youth of 

to his own light, exercise this facuky to love, 
— still loving and loving even then, now, and 
always. 

D'Urfe's conception was of the antique type. 
He regarded love as a fatality against which it 
were vain to struggle. Toward the middle of 
the book the sorrowful Celadon, crushed by 
the wrath of Astrde, is hidden in a cavern where 
he " sustains life by eating grasses." The druid 
Adamas knows that Celadon is perishing by inches, 
and he essays to bring the lover to reason. Cela- 
don answers him : 

" If, as you say, God gave me full possession of power over 
myself, why does He ask me to give an account of myself ? — for 
just as He gave me into my own hands and just as He gave me 
to myself, so have I given myself to her to whom I am consigned 
for ever. First of all ! If He would have account of 
Celadon, let Him apply to her of whom I am! Enough for 
me if I offend not her nor violate my sacred gift to her. God 
willed my life, for by my destiny I love ; and God knows it, 
and has always known it, for since I first began to have a will 
I gave myself to her, and still am hers. In brief, I should not 
have been blest by love as I have been in all these years had 
God not willed it' If He has willed it would it be just to 
punish me because I still remain as He ordained that I should 
be? No! for I have not power to change my fate. So be it, 
if my parents and my friends condemn me! They all should 
be content and glad, when for my acts, I give my reason; that 
I love her." 

" But," answered Adamas, " do you count on living long in 
such a way ? " 

" Election," answered Celadon, " depends not on him who 
has neither will nor understanding." 

' In the Dedication of Place Royale. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 105 

La Grande Mademoiselle and most of her con- 
temporaries escaped Astrees influence in this re- 
spect ; they did not admit that man has " neither 
will nor understanding" where his passions are 
concerned ; or that his feelings depend on " des- 
tiny." Corneille, who had confronted the question, 
set forth the principle that the heart should defer 
to the will. " The love of an honest man," he wrote 
in 1634/ — " The love of an honest man should 
always be voluntary. One ought never to love to 
the point where he cannot help loving, and if he 
carries love so far, he is the slave of a tyranny 
whose yoke he should shake off." 

In her youth Mademoiselle de Montpensier was 
one of the truest of the Corneliennes of her genera- 
tion ; she practised what others were contented to 
restrict to preaching. Love's tyranny appeared to 
her a shameful thing, and she was so convinced 
that it rested with the lover whether he should 
be a slave or free himself " by shaking off the 
yoke," that even the most honest attacks of moral 
faintness were, in her eyes, occasions for judgment 
without mercy. One day — she tells it herself — 
she turned a young femme de chambre out of her 
service simply '* because the girl had married for 
love." The shame then attendant upon love in- 
creased in proportion to the " condition " of the 
slaves of the questionable passion. The lower 
orders were insignificant, and their loves and their 
antipathies, like their sufferings, were beneath the 

' In the Dedication oi Place Royale. 



io6 The Youth of 

consideration of reason, but when men were of a 
certain rank, sentiment was debarred from the 
conditions of marriage. Mademoiselle followed all 
the precepts of high quality, and throughout the 
first half of her life her line of action lay parallel 
with the noble principles introduced by Corneille. 
Jansenism, which, like Corneille, raised the veil of 
life for many of the humbler human hearts, made 
no impression upon *' tall Mademoiselle." Lauzun 
was needed to break her pride. 

Concerning moral questions, public sentiment 
was calm ; the only serious difference raised by 
d'Urfe s work during a period of half a century was 
the conflict of opinions^ on human liberty; on all 
other subjects, notably the things of taste, d'Urfe 
was in harmony with public feeling ; at times Astrde 
exceeded public feeling, but it seldom conflicted 
with it. The sentiments of the book were far in 
advance of the epoch. 

But the nature with which d'Urfe communed 
and which he loved was the nature viewed by 
Louis XIII., and fashioned according to the royal 
taste, improved, repaired, decorated with artifi- 
cial ornaments, and confined within circumscribed 
landscapes composed of complicated horticultural 
figures ; a composite nature in which yerdure was 
nothing but a feature. The fashion of landscape- 
gardening — an invention of the Renaissance — 
had arrived in France from Italy. In the land 
of its birth very amusing specimens of the pictur- 

' M. Lemaitre's address, delivered at Port Royal. (Racine's Centennial.) 



La Grande Mademoiselle 107 

esque were maintained by intelligent property- 
owners. 

There are fountains, [said M. Eugene Muntz,] ' groves, 
verdant bowers, trellises, vine-wreathed arbours, flowers cher- 
ished for their beauty, and plants cultivated for their medicinal 
properties ; and under ground there are caves and grottoes. 
There are bird-houses, hydraulic organs, single statues, groups 
of statues, obelisks, vases, pavilions, covered walks, and bath- 
houses ; everything is brought together within a limited space 
to charm the eye and to favour the imagination." 

The landscape-gardening of France offered the 
same spectacle, and the cultivated parks bore close 
resemblance to the shops of the venders of bric-a- 
brac. " In those rare gardens," said an enthusiastic 
historian, '' he who promenades may pass from one 
surprise to another, losing himself at every step in 
all sorts of labyrinths." (" Dedalus " was the name 
in use, for in those days much was borrowed from 
mythology and from other ancient sources.) The 
labyrinths were complicated by ingenious devices 
intended to deceive the vision, ^stheticism of style 
demanded such delusions. The most renowned 
landscape-gardens were the royal parks, on which 
money had been freely lavished to perfect and to 
elaborate nature. Among the "rarities" in the 
gardens of the Gondis and at Saint Cloud were 
fountains whose waters played invisible instru- 
ments. At the Duke de Bellegarde's (rue de 
Grenelle Saint Honore) the most marvellous thing 
in the garden was an illuminated grotto of arcades, 

' Histoire de I'ari, pendant la renaissance. 



io8 The Youth of 

ornamented with grotesques and with marine col- 
umns, and covered with a vaultino- encrusted with 
shells and with a quantity of rock-work ; and more 
than that, so full of water-spouts, canals, water-jets, 
and invisible faucets ^ that even the Kine had no 
greater number on his terraces at Saint Germain — 
nor had Cardinal de Richelieu a greater number in 
his gardens at Rueil, though the first artificial cas- 
cades ever seen in France^ had been built in his 
garden.^ At the Chateau of Usson, the home of 
Queen Marguerite, who appears in Astrde under 
the name of Galatee, the garden was provided with 
all the rarities the place would hold. Nothing that 
artifice could add to it had been forgfotten. The 
woods were embellished with divers grottoes so 
well counterfeiting nature that the eye often de- 
ceived the judgment.^ The most remarkable grotto 
was 

the cave of old Mandragora, a place so full of witcheries 
that surprise followed surprise, and hour by hour, something 
continually occurred to delight the vision. The vaulting of 
the entrance was sustained by two sculptured figures very in- 
dustriously arrayed with minute stones of divers colours ; the 
hair, the eyebrows, and the beards of the statues, and the two 
sculptured horns of the god Pan were composed of sea shells 
so neatly and so properly set in that the cement could not be 
seen. The outer coping of the door was formed like a rustic 
arch, and garlands of shells, fastened at the four corners, 
ended close to the heads of the two statues. The inside of 
the arch tapered I'o a rocky point, which, in several places, 
seemed to drip saltpetre. The retaining walls of the arch were 

' Sauval, I.es antiquite's de Paris. 

' Dulaure, Environs de Paris. ^ Astr/e. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 109 

set back in niches to form fountains, and all of the fountains 
depicted some of the various effects of the power of love. , In 
the grotto arose a tomb-like monument ornamented with 
images representing divers objects, all formed of coloured 
marble, and trimmed with pictures ; wherever such an effect 
was possible, the trees were pruned to take the appearance of 
some other object or objects. 

Thus the laborious and unrestrained intervention 
of man evoked a factitious type of nature as far 
from precious as the false Prdcieuses. By the un- 
reserved admiration of its florid descriptions Astrde 
had consecrated the artificial mode. Nature de- 
manded Lenotre to strip her gardens of their ridic- 
ulous decorations, and to redeem them by simplicity, 
but when Lenotre accomplished the work of regen- 
eration the public taste was wounded ; the people 
had become accustomed to the sight of parks 
decorated like the stage of the theatre, and the 
simplicity of nature shocked them. La Grande 
Mademoiselle considered Chenonceaux incom- 
plete; she complained that it "looked unfinished"; 
her artificially nourished taste missed something, 
because the owners of Chenonceaux had respected 
the work of God, and left their park just as they 
had received it from the hand of its Creator ; she 
wondered why Provence was called beautiful — to 
her it seemed " ugly enough." She lived at the 
gate of the Pyrenees thirty days and never entered 
the country, yet she delighted in the pretentious 
trinkets with which the landscape-gardeners of the 
Italian school decorated French woods and gardens. 
Honore d'Urfe was responsible for her ignorance. 



no The Youth of 

Many of d'Urfe's tastes^ were noble, and As^r^e was 
a work of excellent purpose — almost a great work ; 
but it lacked the one thing demanded by true art, — 
love of nature in its simplicity. 

D'Urfe's artificial taste was more regrettable 
because his successors, they who continued his 
work, accentuated his faults, as, generally speaking, 
the disciples of all innovators accentuate the faults 
of their masters. Few among the Pr^cz'euses knew 
how to sift the chaff from the wheat when the time 
came to take or to leave the varied gifts of their 
inheritance. The true Prdcieuses precipitated the 
revolution of which d'Urfe had been the prophet; 
they alone consummated the moral transformation 
which, according to his light, he had prepared. 

During the changing years of half a century the 
Prdcieuses " kept the school " of manners and fine 
language, laying on the ferule whenever they 
found pupils as recalcitrant as the damsel whose 
story I am attempting to relate. They did not 
try — far from it ! — to train the public taste, to cor- 
rect it, or to guide it aright ; they urged France 
into the tortuous by-paths of false ethics and su- 
perficial art ; but, taken all in all, their influence 
was good. La Grande Mademoiselle, the abrupt 
cavalier-maiden, proved its virtue. To the Hotel 
de Rambouillet she owed it that she did not end as 
she began — a dragoon in petticoats, and she recog- 
nised the fact, and was grateful for the benefits 
that she had received, 

• Montegut, loc. cit. 
















••?^ 




La Grande Mademoiselle 1 1 1 

It has been asked : Was the Society of the 
Prdcieuses a result of the influence of Astrdef 
With the exception noted, it is probable that 
d'Urfe made no attempt to form new intellectual 
or sentimental currents ; he confined himself to the 
observation of the thoughts and the feelings at 
work in the depths of human souls within his 
own view ; he was a close student of character, his 
book was a study, and his influence reformed opin- 
ions and manners ; but as the Society of the 
Prdczeuses was in process of incubation before 
Astrde appeared, it must have taken shape had 
d'Urfe never written his book. The world of fash- 
ion had long deemed it witty to ridicule the 
Prdcieuses ; from too much handling, jests upon 
that subject had lost their effervescence, and in 
time it was considered more original to find virtue 
in the delicate mannerisms of the refined ladies 
than to adhere to the old fashion of mocking 
them. Their exaggerations were numerous and 
pronounced, but their civility was in pleasant con- 
trast with the abrupt indelicacies of the Bearnais ; 
and even now, looking back to them across the 
separating centuries, we can find few causes for 
reproach. They subjected their literature to the 
yoke of the Spanish and Italian schools, but they 
could hardly have done less at a time when the 
Court was Italian, and when Spanish influences 
were entering by all the frontiers. Aside from 
their submission to foreign influences, the PrScieuses 
were sturdy champions of the right, and unless we 



112 The Youth of 

are prepared to falsify more than thirty years of 
our history of morals, and of literature, we must 
admit that they rendered us services which cannot 
be forgotten or misunderstood. 

They were women of the world, important after 
the fashion of their day, and by the power of their 
worldly influence they freed literature from the 
pedantry with which Ronsard — and Montaigne, 
also, to a certain extent — had entangled it. They 
forced the writers to brush the dust from their 
bookshelves ; they imposed upon them some of the 
exigencies of their own sex, and by the bare fact 
of their influence literature which had been almost 
wholly erudite acquired a quality assimilating it 
to the usages of the world, and an air of decency 
and of civility which it had always lacked. The 
Prdcieuses compelled men to grant them the respect 
due to all women under civilisation, and to count 
them as members of the body politic ; they ex- 
acted concessions to their modesty ; they purified 
language ; they obliged " all honest men " to select 
their topics of conversation ; they habituated people 
to discern the delicate shades of thouo-ht and to 
dissect ideas and find the hidden meanings of 
words ; they made demands for concessions to the 
rights of precocity, and, as a result, propriety of 
verbal expression and closely attentive analyses 
entered conversation hand in hand. Many and 
eminent were the services rendered unto France 
by the amiable band of worldly reformers ; theirs 
was a mighty enterprise ; we cannot measure the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 113 

transformation wrought by the influence of women 
in the indecent manners of that day unless we 
make a minute examination of the subject. Before 
the advent of the Pr^cieuses, exterior elegance and 
a graceful bearing had been a cloak covering the 
words and the conduct of barbarians. Proofs of 
this fact abound in the records of that day. La 
Grande Mademoiselle was of the second generation 
of the Prdcieuses ; her wit, her love of wit, and her 
intellect, gave her rank in the Livi^^ d'Or^; but the 
habits of youth are difficult to overcome, and when 
she first visited the Hotel de Rambouillet she used 
the words and the gestures of a pandour, her 
squared shoulders and out-thrust chest bore evi- 
dences of the natural investiture of the Cossack. 
Speaking of that epoch, her most impartial critic 
tells us that she " voiced a thousand imprecations."^ 
In one of her attacks of indignation she threatened 
the Marechal de I'Hopital : " I will tear your beard 
out with my own hands ! " she cried fiercely, and 
the marshal took fright and ran away. 

Several ladies of Mademoiselle's society were 
known to possess brisk and heavy hands, and feet 
of the same alert and virile character. Their 
people and their lovers knew something of their 
"manuals and pedals," and bore visible tokens of 
the efficacy of those phenomenal members on their 
own persons, — and in all the colours of the rain- 
bow. Madame de Vervins, who assisted with La 
Grande Mademoiselle at the fetes given in honour 

■ Somaize's Dictionnaire dcs Pre'cieuses. ' M/moires, Conrart. 



114 The Youth of 

of Mademoiselle de Hautefort, " basted her lack- 
eys and other servants at will," and she did it with 
no slack hand. One of the subjects on whom she 
plied her dexterity died under the operation, and 
the people of Paris avenged his death by sacking 
her palace/ Following is the record : 

On brisa vitre, on rompit porte, . . . 
Bref: si fort s' aecrut le tumulte 
Que de peur de plus grande insulte, 
Cette dame s 'enfuit expres, 
Et se sauva par le marais. 

But if the ladies were not lambs, the gentlemen 
were not sheep. They were no laggards in war. 
When they turned the flank of the enemy they did 
not mince matters, and upon occasion they drew 
the first blood. Once upon a time, at a dance, 
Comte de Bregis, having received a slap from his 
partner, turned upon her and pulled her hair down 
in the midst of the banquet. At a supper, in the 
presence of a great and joyous company, the Mar- 
quis de la Case snatched a leg of mutton from a 
trencher and buffeted his neighbour in her face, 
smearing her with gravy. As she was a lady of an 
even temper, she laughed heartily,^ and the incident 
was closed. Malherbe confessed to Madame de 
Rambouillet that he had " cuffed the 'ears of the 
Viscountess d'Auchy until she had cried for aid." 
As he was a jealous man, his action was not with- 
out cause, and in that day to flog a woman was a 
thing that any gentleman felt free to do. 

^Gazette de Loret. (Letter bearing date August 13, 1651.) ' Tallemant. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 115 

The regenerating Prdcieuses had not arrived too 
soon. Ignoble jests and obscenities too foul to 
recount were accepted as conversation by both 
sexes. The father of the great Conde, who was 
president of a "social" club whose rules compelled 
members to imitate every movement made by their 
leader, ate, and forced his fellow members (includ- 
ing the ladies) to eat — I dare not say what ; do 
not try to guess — you could never do it ! 

The modest and timid Louis XIII. could — when 
he set about it — give his Court very unappetising 
examples. In a book of Edification, bearing date 
1658, we read that "the late King, seeing a young 
woman among the crowds admitted to his palace 
so that they might see the King eat, said nothing, 
and eave no immediate evidence that he had seen 
her ; but, as he raised his glass for the last sup, be- 
fore rising from the table, he filled his mouth with 
wine, and having: held it thus sanctuaried for an in- 
stant, launched it forth into the uncovered chest of 
the watchful lady," who had been too eager to wit- 
ness the mastications of royalty. 

Aristocratic traditions exacted that the nobles 
should floof their inferiors, and the nobles con- 
formed to the traditional exactions freely. Men 
and women were flogged for " failures " of the least 
importance, and knowing those antique customs as 
we do, we may be permitted to wonder that we 
have so few records of the music of that eventful 
day. 

Richelieu " drubbed his people," he drubbed his 



ii6 The Youth of 

officers, he drubbed (so it was said) his ministers. 
The celebrated Duke d'Epernon, the last of the 
great Seigniors after Saint Simon, was " as mild- 
mannered a man as ever cut a throat or scuttled a 
ship " ; one day when he was discussing some offi- 
cial question with his Eminence, the Archbishop 
of Bordeaux, he gave the exalted prelate " three 
clips of his fist full in the archiepiscopal face 
and breast, supplementing them by several cuts 
of the end of his cane in the pit of the stom- 
ach." We are not told how the priest received his 
medicine, but history records that " this done, 
Monsieur the Duke bore witness to his Lordship 
(the Archbishop) that had it not been for the re- 
spect due to his character, he (the Duke) should 
have tipped him over on the pavement." One day 
when the feelings of the Marechal de Mauny were 
outraged because a farmer had kept the de Mauny 
servitors waiting for their butter and eggs, he (the 
Marechal) rushed from his palace like a madman, 
fell upon the first peasants who crossed his path, and 
with sword-thrusts and with pistol-shots wounded 
two of the " aggressors " mortally. This last event 
occurred in Burgundy ; it was merely an incident. 
In Anjou, Comte de Montsoreau maintained a pri- 
vate money-coining establishment in' the wood 
near, or on, his property, halted the travellers on 
the highways, obliged them to pay their ransom, 
and, at the head of a band of twenty men, all being 
brigands of his own species, swept over the country, 
pillaging in all directions. The daily occurring duels 



La Grande Mademoiselle 1 1 7 

accustomed men to look lightly upon death, and 
contempt for human life prevailed. When the 
Chevalier d'Andrieux was thirty years old, he had 
killed seventy-two men. In such cases edicts were 
worthless ; the national need demanded a radical 
change of morals. Nine years after the death of 
Louis XIII., Marechal de Grammont said in 
one of his letters : " Since the beginning of the 
Regency, according to the estimate made, nine 
hundred and forty gentlemen have been killed in 
duels." That was an official estimate, and it did 
not include the deaths which, though they were 
attributed to other causes, were the direct and 
immediate results of honourable encounters ; the 
dead thus enumerated having been killed on the 
spot.^ 

At that time the duel was not attended by cere- 
monies ; it was a hand-to-hand encounter between 
barbarians. The contestants fought with any wea- 
pons that came to hand, and in the way most con- 
venient to their needs. All means were considered 
proper for the killing of men, though it was gen- 
erally conceded that for killing well the different 
means were, or might be made, more or less 
courteous. This being the case, the duel was in 
more or less good or bad taste, according to the 
means used in its execution, and according to the 
regularity, or the lack of regularity, employed in 
their use. 

In 161 2, Balagny and Puymorin alighted from 

' Memoires, de Richelieu. 



ii8 The Youth of 

their horses and drew swords in the rue des Petits 
Champs. While they were fighting, a valet took a 
pitchfork and planted it in Balagny from the back. 
Balagny died of the wound inflicted by the valet, 
and Puymorin also died ; he had been wounded 
when the valet interfered. Still another lackey 
killed Villepreau in the duel between Beaupre and 
Villepreau. That duel also was fought in the street 
(rue Saint Honore.) When young Louvigny^ 
fought with d'Hocquincourt, he said : " Let us take 
our swords ! " As the other bent to comply with 
the suggestion, Louvigny gave a great sword- 
thrust, which, running his adversary through and 
through, put him to death. Tallemant des Reaux 
qualified the act as " appalling," but it bore no 
consequences for Louvigny. 

Marechal de Marillac (who was beheaded in 
1632) killed his adversary before the latter had 
time to draw his sword. We should have called 
it an assassination, but our forefathers saw no 
harm in such duelling. They reserved their criti- 
cisms for the timidly peaceable who objected to a 
fight. 

The salon, with its ultra-refinement and its 
delicacy, followed close upon the heels of these 
remnants of barbarity. The salon gave form to 
the civility which forbade a man to pierce the 
fleshy part of the back of an adversary with a 
pitchfork. Polite courtesy also restrained gentle- 

' Young Louvigny was killed in a duel in 1629 ; he was entering his 
twenty-first year. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 119 

men from forcing ladies to swallow all unclean- 
ness under the pretence of indulging in a merry 
jest. As good manners make for morality, let us 
thank the PrScuuses for the reform they accom- 
plished when they moulded men for courteous 
intercourse with their fellow-men ; and to Madame 
de Rambouillet, among others, let thanks be given, 
for she made the achievement possible by opening 
the way and beginning at the beginning. Wo- 
manly tact, a decorous keeping of her house, love 
of order and of beauty inspired her with the 
thought that the arrangements made in the old 
hotels of Paris for the people of ancient days were 
not fitted for the use of the enlightened age of the 
Prdcieuses. There were no salons in the old 
hotels ; the salon was unknown ; therefore there 
was no room in which to frame the society then 
in formation. Tallemant tells us that the only 
houses known at that time were built with a hall 
upon one side, a room upon the other side, and a 
staircase in the middle. The salle was a parade- 
room, a place to pass through, a corridor where 
no one lingered. People received visitors in the 
room in which they happened to be when the 
visitors arrived ; at different times they happened 
to be in different rooms. Very naturally at eat- 
ing-time they were in rooms where they could sit 
at meat. There were no rooms devoted to the 
daily meals. The table en which viands were 
served was placed in any room large enough to 
contain the number of persons who were to be 



I20 The Youth of 

entertained. If there were few guests, the table was 
placed in a small room ; when the guests were 
numerous, they were seated in a large room, or the 
table, ready served, was carried into any room 
large enough to hold the company. It was all a 
matter of chance. Banquets were given in the 
corridor, in the salle, in the ante-room, or in the 
sleeping-room,^ because literary intuition was un- 
developed. Madame de Rambouillet was the first 
to realise that the spirit of conversation is too rare 
and too delicate a plant to thrive under unfavour- 
able conditions, and that in order to establish con- 
versational groups, a place must be provided in 
which they who favour conversation may talk at 
ease. Every one recognises that fact now, and 
every one ought to recognise it. No one — man 
or woman — is justified in ignoring the influences 
of the localities that he or she frequents. It should 
be generally known that sympathies will not group, 
that the current of thought will not flow freely 
when a table is unfavourably placed for the seating 
of society expected to converse. 

Three hundred years ago the creator of the first 
French salon discovered this fact, and her discovery 
marked a date in the history of our social life. 

Mme. de Rambouillet owned a dilapi'dated man- 
sion standinof between the Tuileries and the court- 
yard of the Louvre, near the site of the now existing 
Pavilion de Rohan.^ She had determined to re- 

* Vicomte d'Avenel, Richelieu et la Monarchie absolue. 
' See Gamboust's map, Paris en i6j2. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 121 

build the house, and no one could draw a plan 
suited to her ideas. Her mind was incessantly 
busy with her architectural scheme, and one evening 
when she had been sitting alone deep in meditation 
she cried out ! " Quick ! A pencil ! paper ! I 
have found a way to build my house." ^ She drew 
her plan at once, and the arrangement was so 
superior to all known architectural designs that 
houses were built according to " the plans of Mme. 
de Rambouillet all over France." Tallemant says : 

They learned from Mme. de Rambouillet how to place 
stairways at the sides of houses ' so that they might form 
great suites of rooms, and they also learned from her how to 
raise floors and to make high and broad windows, placed one 
opposite another so that the air might circulate with freedom; 
this is all so true that when the Queen-mother ordered the 
rebuilding of the Luxembourg she sent the architects to glean 
ideas from the Hotel de Rambouillet. 

Until that time the interiors of houses had been 
painted red or tan colour. Mme. de Rambouillet 
was the first to adopt another colour and her inno- 
vation gave the " Blue Room " its name. The 
famous Blue Room in which the seventeenth 
century acquired the even and correct tone of 
conversation was disposed with a skilful and 
scientific tact which has survived the rack of three 
hundred years of changes, and to-day it stands as 
the perfect type of a temple fully adequate to the 
exigencies of intellectual intercourse. 

' Tallemant. 

' In one of the angles at the end of the courtyard (Tallemant). 



122 The Youth of 

In it all spaces were measured and the seats 
were systematically counted and distributed to the 
best advantage ; there were eighteen seats ; neither 
more nor less. Screens shut off certain portions 
of the room and facilitated the formation of 
intimately confidential groups ; flowers perfumed 
the air ; objects of art caressed the vision, and, taken 
all together, so perceptible a spirit of the sanctuary 
enshrining thought was present that the habitues 
of the Salon de Rambouillet always spoke of it as 
" the Temple." Even La Grande Mademoiselle, 
the irrepressible, felt the subtle influences of that 
calm retreat of the mind, and when she entered the 
Blue Room she repressed her Cossack gestures and 
choked back her imprecations. She knew that she 
could not evade the restraining influence of the 
hushed tranquillity which pervaded " the Temple," 
and she drooped her sparkling eyes, and accepted 
her discipline with the universally prevalent docility. 
In her own words, Mme. de Rambouillet was 
" adorable." 

I think [wrote Mademoiselle in 1659], that I can see her 
now in that shadowy recess, — which the sun never entered, 
though the place was never left in darkness, — surrounded by 
great crystal vases full of beautiful spring flowers which were 
made to bloom at all seasons in the gardens near her temple, 
so that she might look upon the things that she loved. 
Around her were the pictures of her friends, and the looks 
that she gave them called down blessings on the absent. 
There were many books on the tables in her grotto and, as one 
may imagine, they treated of nothing common. Only two, or 
at most three persons were permitted to enter that place at 



La Grande Mademoiselle 123 

the same time, because confusion displeased her and noise 
was adverse to the goddess whose voice was loud only in 
wrath. Our goddess was never angry. She was gentleness 
itself. 

According- to die inscription on a stone preserved 
in the Musee Cluny the Hotel de Rambouillet was 
rebuilt in 1 6 1 8. The mistress of the house consumed 
ten industriously filled years constituting, installing, 
and habituating the intellectual groups of her 
salon ; but when she had perfected her arrange- 
ments she maintained them In their splendour until 
the Fronde put an end to all intellectual effort. 

When the Hotel de Rambouillet was In Its apogee 
La Grande Mademoiselle was In the flush of early 
youth. She was born In 1627. Mme. de Sevlgne 
was Mademoiselle's elder by one year. 

When we consider the social and Intellectual 
condition of the times we must regard many fea- 
tures of the enterprise of "fair Arthenlce " as 
wonderful, but Its most characteristic feature was 
the opportunity and the advancement It accorded 
to men of letters. Whatever "literary" men were 
elsewhere, they were received as the equals of the 
nobility In the Salon de Rambouillet. Such a sight 
had never been seen ! Superior minds had always 
been regarded leniently. They had had their 
periods of usefulness, when the quality had been 
forced to recognise their existence, but the 
possessors of those minds had been treated — 
well, to speak clearly, they had been treated as 
they had expected to be treated ; for how could the 



124 The Youth of 

poor fellows have hoped for anything better when 
they knew that they passed two thirds of their time 
with spines humbly curved and with palms out- 
stretched soliciting equivocal complaisancies, or in- 
viting ecus, or struggling to secure a seat at the 
lower end of dinner tables by means of heart- 
rendinof dedications ? 

Alack ! how many Sarrazins and Costars there 
were to one Balzac, or to one d'Urfe ! how numer- 
ous were the natural parasites, piteous leeches ! 
whose wit went begging for a discarded bone ! 
How many were condemned by their vocation to 
die of hunger ; — and there was no help for them ! 
Had their talent been ten times greater than it was 
it would have been equally impossible for them to 
introduce dignity into their existence. There were 
no journals, no reviews where an author could 
present his stuff or his stories for inspection ; no 
one had ever heard of authors' rights ; and however 
successful a play, the end of the dramatist was the 
same ; he was alloVed no literary property. How 
then could he live if not by crooked ways and 
doubtful means? If a certain amount of respect, 
not to say honour, were due to his profession, by 
what means could he acquire his share of it ? Any 
yeoman — the first country squire — could, when so it 
pleased him, have a play stricken from the roll ; if so 
it pleased him could have the rod laid over the au- 
thor s back, amidst the plaudits of the contingent 
which we should call the claque. Was it any wonder 
that authors were pedants to the marrow of their 



La Grande Mademoiselle 125 

bones when pedantry was the only paying thing in 
their profession ? Writers who chanted their own 
praises did good unto themselves and enjoyed the 
reputation of the erudite. They were regarded as 
professors of mentality, they reflected credit upon 
the men who lodged and nourished them. For that 
reason, — -and very logically, — when a man knew that 
he was being lodged and nourished for the sake of 
his bel esprit if there was any manhood in him he 
entered heart and soul into his pretensions ; and 
sleeping or waking, night or day, from head to foot, 
and without one hour of respite, played the part of 
" man of letters" ; he mouthed his words, went about 
with brows knit, talked from his chest, and, in short, 
did everything to prove to the world that he was 
wise beyond his generation ; his every effort was 
bent to manifest his ability ; and his manners, his 
costumes, and his looks, all proved him to be a 
student of books. And when this was proven his 
master — the man who lodged and nourished him — 
was able to get his full money's worth and to stand 
up before the world revealed in the character of 
benefactor and protector of Belles Lettres. In our 
day things wear a different aspect. The author has 
reached his pinnacle, and in some cases it may even 
be possible that his merits are exaggerated. 

Knowing this, it is difficult for us to appreciate 
the conditions existinof when the Salon of the Ho- 
tel de Rambouillet was opened. We know that 
there is nothing essentially admirable in putting 
black marks on white paper, and we know that a 



126 The Youth of 

good shoemaker is a more useful citizen than can 
be made of an inferior writer, and knowing these 
facts, and others of the same sort, we can hardly 
realise that only three hundred years ago there 
were honest boys who entered upon the career of 
Letters when they might have earned a living 
selling tallow. 

The Hotel de Rambouillet regulated the scale of 
social values and diminished the distance between 
the position accorded to science, intellect, and 
genius and the position accorded to birth. For 
the first time within the memory of Frenchmen 
Men of Letters tasted the sweets of consideration ; 
their eloquence was not forced back, nor was it 
drawn out by the imperious demands of hunger ; 
authors were placed on a footing with their fellow- 
men ; they were still expected to discourse, but as 
their wit was the result of normal conditions, it 
acquired the quality of order and the flavour of 
nature. In the Blue Room the weary writers were 
allowed to rest. They were not called upon to give 
proofs of their intellect ; they were led gently for- 
ward, placed at a distance that made them appear 
genial, persuaded to discard their dogmatism, 
and by inferences and subtle influences taught 
to be indulgent and to distribute their wisdom 
with the philosophical civility which was then 
called "the spirit of the Court," — and the term 
was a just one ; a great gulf lay between the 
incisive rushing expression of the thought of Conde, 
the pupil of Mme. de Rambouillet, and the laboured 



La Grande Mademoiselle 127 

facitlae of Voiture and the Academician, Jacques 
Esprit, although Voiture and Esprit were far in 
advance of their predecessors. Under the benefi- 
cent treatment of the Hotel de Rambouillet the Men 
of Letters gradually lost their stilted and pedagogic 
airs. The fair reformers of " the circle " found many 
a barrier in their path ; the gratitude of the pedants 
was not exhilarating, the leopards' spots long 
retained their colour, — Trissotin proved that, — but 
by force of repeated " dippings " the dye was 
eventually compelled to take and the stains that 
It left upon the fingers of " fair Arthenlce " were not 
dlsfiofurlno;. 

A elance at Racine or at Bolleau shows us the 
long road traversed after the Salon de Rambouillet 
instituted the recognition of merit regardless of 
rank and fortune. Love of Intellectual pleasures, 
courage, and ambitious determination had ordered 
a march resumed after forced halts ; and at last, 
when the ardent Innovators reached the port from 
which they were to launch their endeavour, recogni- 
tion of merit had become a custom, and the first 
phase of democratic evolution was an accomplished 
fact. Our own day shows further progress ; the 
same evolution In Its untrammelled freedom tends 
to cast suspicion upon personal merit because It 
unhinges the Idea of equality. 

" All Paris " of that day filed through the portals 
of the Hotel de Rambouillet and passed in review 
before the Blue Room. Malherbe was one of the 



128 The Youth of 

most faithful attendants of the Salon whose 
Laureate he remained until he died (1628). Yet 
according to Tallemant and to many others he was 
boorish and uncivil He was abrupt in conversa- 
tion, but he wrote excellent poetry and never 
said a word that did not reach its mark. When 
he visited the Salon he was very amiable ; and his 
grey beard made him a creditable dean for the 
circle of literary companions. He wrote pretty 
verses in honour of Arthenice, he was diverting and 
instructive — in a word, he made himself necessary 
to the Salon. But he was too old to change either 
his character or his appearance, and his attempts 
to conform to the fashions of the hour made him 
ridiculous. He was " a toothless gallant, always 
spitting." 

He had been in the pay of M. de Bellegarde, from 
whom he had received a salary of one thousand 
livres, table and lodging, and board and lodging for 
one lackey and one horse. He drew an income 
from a pension of five hundred ecus granted by 
Marie de Medicis ; he was in possession of numer- 
ous gratuities, perquisites, and " other species of 
gifts " which he had secretly begged by the sweat 
of his brow. Huet, Archbishop of Avranche, 
wrote : " Malherbe is trying his best to increase his 
fortunes, and his poetry, noble though it be, is not 
always nobly employed." M. dYveteaux said that 
Malherbe " demanded alms sonnet in hand." The 
greedy poet had one rival at the Hotel de Rambouil- 
let ; a very brilliant Italian addicted to flattery, whom 



La Grande Mademoiselle 129 

all the ladies loved. Women were infatuated by 
him, as they are always infatuated by any foreign 
author — be he good or bad ! Marini — in Paris they 
called him " Marin " — conversed in long sentences 
joined by antitheses. In his hours of relaxation 
when his thoughts were supposed to be in literary un- 
dress, he called the rose " the eye of the springtide." ^ 
At the time of which I now speak he was labouring 
upon a poem of forty-five thousand verses, entitled 
Adonis. Every word written or uttered by him 
was calculated to produce its effect. ** The Circle," 
to the disgust of Malherbe, lay at the feet of the 
Italian pedant, swooning with ecstasy. '* Marin's " 
influence over the first Salon of France was deplor- 
able, and a contemporary chronicler recorded his 
progress with evident dejection^; " In time he re- 
lieved the country of his presence ; but he had 
remained in it long enough to deposit in fruitful 
soil the germs of his factitious preciosity." 

Chapelain was of other metal. He began active 
life as a teacher. M. de Longueville, who was the 
first to appreciate his merits, granted him his first 
pension (two thousand livres). Chapelain was 
fond of his work, a natural writer, industrious, and 
frugal. He went into retirement, lived upon his 
little pension, and brought forth La Ptuelle. De 
Longueville was delighted by the zeal and the talent 
of his protege and he added one thousand livres to his 
pension. Richelieu also granted Chapelain a pen- 
sion (one thousand livres) and when Mazarin came 

' M. Bourciez loc. cit. ^ Ibid. 

9 



I30 The Youth of 

to power he supplemented the gift of his predecessor 
by a pension of five hundred ecus. 

It was not a common thing for authors to make 
favourable arrangements with a publisher, but 
Chapelain had made excellent terms for that 
epoch. La Pticelle had sold for three thousand livres. 
He (Chapelain) was in easy circumstances, but his 
unique appearance excited unique criticisms. He 
was described as " one of the shabbiest, dirtiest, most 
shambling, and rumpled of gallows-birds, and one 
of the most affectedly literary characters from head 
to heels who ever set foot in the Blue Room." It 
was said he was " a complete caricature of his idea." 
Though Mme. de Rambouillet was accustomed 
to the aspect of Men of Letters, she was struck 
dumb when Chapelain first appeared. As his mind 
was not visible, she saw nothing but an ugly little 
man in a pigeon-breast satin habit of antique date, 
covered with different kinds of ill-assorted gimp. 
His boots were not matched (each being ec- 
centric in its own peculiar way). On his head 
was an old wig and over the wig hovered a 
faded hat. Mme. de Rambouillet regained her 
self-command and decided to close her eyes to 
his exterior. His conversation pleased her, and 
before he had left her presence he had impressed 
her favourably. In truth Chapelain merited re- 
spect and friendship. He was full of delicacy of 
feeling, extremely erudite, and impassioned in his 
love for things of the mind. His keen, refined, 
critical instinct had made him an authority on all 



La Grande Mademoiselle 131 

subjects. His correspondence covered all the 
literary and learned centres of Europe, and he 
was consulted as an oracle by the savants of all 
countries. He was interested in everything. His 
mind was singularly broad, modest, frank, and open 
to conviction ; and while his nature was essentially 
French, his mental curiosity, with its innumerable 
outstretching and receptive channels, made him a 
representative of cosmopolitan enlightenment. 

Chapelain was one of the pillars of the Salon, — 
or, to speak better, he was the pendentive of the 
Salon's literary architecture. After a time repeated 
frequentation of the Salon amended his " exterior " 
to some extent. He changed his fanciful attire for 
the plain black costumes worn by Vadius and by 
Trissotin, but his transformation was accomplished 
invisibly, and during the transition period he did 
not cease to be shabby and of a suspiciously neg- 
lected aspect, even for one hour. '* I believe," said 
Tallemant, " that Chapelain has never had any- 
thing absolutely new." 

Menage, another pillar of the Salon de Ram- 
bouillet, was one of the rare literary exceptions to 
the rule of the solid provincial bourgeoisie. He 
was the rara avis of his country, and not only a 
pedant but the pedant par excellence, the finished 
type of the " litterateur " who " sucks ink and bursts 
with pride at his achievement." He was always 
spreading his feathers and bristling like a turkey- 
cock if he was not appreciated according to his 
estimate of himself. From him descended some 



132 The Youth of 

of the " Hterary types " still in existence, who cross- 
question a man in regard to what he knows of 
their literary " work." No matter what people were 
talking about, Menage would interrupt them with 
his patronising smile and " Do you remember 
what I said upon that subject?" he would ask. 
Naturally no one remembered anything that he had 
written, and when they confessed that they had 
forgotten he would cry out all sorts of piquancies 
and coarseness. Every one knew what he was. 
Moliere used him as a model for Vadius, and the 
likeness was striking. He was dreaded, and people 
loved literature to madness and accepted all its 
excrescences before they consented to endure his 
presence. " I have seen him," said Tallemant, " in 
Mme. de Rambouillet's alcove cleaning the insides 
of his teeth with a very dirty handkerchief, and that 
was what he was doing during the whole visit." 
He considered his fine manners irresistible. He 
pursued Mme. de Rambouillet, bombarding her 
incessantly with declarations. A pernicious vanity 
was one of his chief failings. It was his habit to 
give people to understand that he was on intimate 
terms with women like Mme. de Lafayette and 
Mme. de Sevigne ; but Mme. de Sevigne did 
not permit him to carry his boasts \o Paradise. 
One day after she had heard of his reports she 
invited him to accompany her alone in her carriage. 
She told him that she was " not afraid that any one 
would gossip over it." Menage, whose feelings 
were outraged by her contempt, burst into a fiood 



La Grande Mademoiselle 133 

of reproaches. " Get into my carriage at once ! " she 
answered. " If you anger me I will visit you in your 
own house / " ^ 

People tolerated Menage because he was extra- 
ordinarily wise, and because his sense of justice 
impelled him to admirably generous deeds. The 
Ministers, Mazarin and Colbert, always sent to 
him for the names of the people who were worthy 
of recompence, and Menage frequently nominated 
the men who had most offended him. Justice was 
his passion. Under the vulgar motley of the 
pedant lay many excellent qualities, among them 
intense devotion to friends. Throughout his life 
he rendered innumerable services and was kind and 
helpful to many people. Menage had a certain 
amount of money, nevertheless he gave himself 
into the hands of Retz, and Retz lodged and 
nourished him as he lodged and nourished his own 
lackey. Menage lived with Retz, berating him as 
he berated every one ; and Retz cared for him, 
endured his fits of anger, and listened to his scold- 
ings ten years. Menage " drew handsome pecun- 
iary benefits from some other source," saved money, 
set out for himself, and founded a branch Blue 
Room in his own house. His receptions, which 
were held weekly on Wednesday, were in high 
esteem. The people who had free access to good 
society considered it an honour to be named as his 
guests. 

Quite another story was " little Voiture," a 

' Bussy-Rabutin, Histoire amoretise dts Catties. 



134 The Youth of 

delicate pigmy who had " passed forty years of 
his Hfe at death's door." He was an invaHd even 
in early youth. When very young he wrote to 
Mme. de Rambouillet from Nancy : 

Since I have not had the honour of seeing you, madame, I 
have endured ills which cannot be described. As I traversed 
Epernay I visited Marechal Strozzi for your sake, and his 
tomb appeared so magnificent, and the place so calculated to 
give repose, that as I was in such condition and so fit for 
burial, I longed to be laid beside him; but as they found that 
there was still some warmth in me, they made difficulties 
about acceding to my wishes. Then I resolved to have my 
body carried as far as Nancy, where, at last, madame, it has 
arrived, so meagre and so wasted, that I do assure you that 
there will be very little for them to lay in the ground. 

Ten years later he drew the following sketch of 
himself : 

" My head is handsome enough ; I have many 
grey hairs. My eyes are soft, but a little dis- 
traught. . . . My expression is stupid, but to 
counterbalance this discrepancy, I am the best boy 
in the world.''' ^ 

Voiture was called "the dwarf king." He was 
a charming conversationalist ; he was a precursor 
of the Parisian of the eighteenth century, of whom 
his winged wit and foaming gayety made him a 
fair antetype ; he was "the life and the soul" of 
the Hotel de Rambouillet, and when the pon- 
derous minds had left the Salon, after he had 
helped the naturally gay ladies to lift the helmet of 
Minerva from their heads — and the weights from 

' Oh, no! not such a good boy as all that ! — Arvede Barine. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 135 

their heels — he taught them the light laughter 
which sits so well on " airy nothings." But he had 
his defects, defects so grave that the critics said : 
" If Voiture were of our condition it would be im- 
possible to endure him ! " He was a dangerous 
little gossip, constantly taking liberties and forcing 
people to recall him to his place. Though he was 
a child in size, he was a man of mature years, and 
the parents and guardians of young girls were 
forced to watch him, though it is probable that his 
intentions were innocent enough. One day, when 
he was on a visit, he attempted to press his lips to 
the arm of one of the daughters of the house. 
That time he " caught it on his fingers " ; he 
begged pardon for his sin ; but he did not correct 
his faults ; vanity forbade him to do that, and 
vanity made him very jealous and hot tempered. 
Mile, de Scudery (who was not censorious) called 
him " untrustworthy." His literature was like his 
person and his character. Everything that he 
wrote was delicate, coquettish, and very graceful, 
but often puerile. His literary taste was not 
keen ; when the Circle sat wrapt in admiration just 
after Corneille had read them Polyeiccte, Voiture 
hurried to the author's side and told him that he 
" would better go home and lock that drama up in 
his bureau drawer." 

Toward the end of his life Voiture dyed both 
hair and beard, and his manner was just what 
it had been in his youth ; he could not realise 
that he was not a boy ; it was said that he was 



136 The Youth of 

" tiresome, because he did not know how to grow 
old." 

His irritable disposition made him a trying 
companion, but to his last day he was the " spoiled 
child " of Madame de Rambouillet and all the 
society of the Salon ; he was gay, simple, boyish, 
and natural, and the Circle loved him "because he 
had none of the affected gravity and the import- 
ance of the other men of letters, and because his 
manners were not precise." More than thirty 
years after his death Mme. de Sevigne recalled 
" his free wit and his charming ways " with de- 
light. (" So much the worse," she said, " for them 
who do not understand such things ! " ^) 

Voiture might have lived independently and 
dispensed with the favours and the benefits which 
he solicited. His father was a very successful 
business man (he dealt in wines), but in those days 
it was customary for literary men to depend upon 
other men, and " little Voiture," thinking that it 
was a part of his glory to take his share of the 
general cake, profited by his social relations, and 
stretched his hands out in all directions, receiving 
such pensions, benefits, and " offices " as were be- 
stowed upon all prominent men of letters. His 
income was large, and as he was nourished and cared 
for by Madame de Rambouillet, he had few expenses. 

Valentin Conrart, the first perpetual Secretary of 
the Acadd7nie Frangaise, was the most useful, if not 
the most brilliant member of the Salon ; he was 

' Mme. de Sevigne. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 137 

the common sense of the Blue Room : the wise 
and discreet friend to whom the most delicate se- 
crets were fearlessly confided, the unfailing referee 
to whom the members of the Circle applied for de- 
cisions of all kinds, from the question of a debated 
signification to the pronunciation of a word ; natur- 
ally he was somewhat pedagogical ; incessant correc- 
tion of the works of others had impressed him with 
the instincts and the manners of a teacher ; to the 
younger members of the Circle he was a most 
awe-inspiring wiseacre. Conrart bore the mark of 
a deep-seated consciousness of Protestantism, and 
whether he was speaking, walking, or engaged in his 
active duties it was evident that he was absorbed 
in reflections concerning his religious origin ; people 
who had seen him when he was asleep af^rmed that 
he wore an alert air of cogitation when wrapt in slum- 
ber, and when he was rhyming his little verses to 
Alphise or to Lycoris his aspect was the same. His 
attitude was logical : he knew that he was a Pro- 
testant ; he knew that that fact was a thing that no 
man could be expected to forget. In 1647 he wrote 
to a fellow coreligionist ^ : " As the world regards it, 
what a disadvantage it is to be a Huguenot!" 
The Academie Fran9aise emanated from social 
meetings held in Conrart's house and the serious as- 
sociation could not have had a more suitable cradle. 
It is a pleasure to think of that easy and inde- 
pendent home, where guests were met with out- 
stretched hands, where wisdom was dispensed 

' Valentin Conrart. Rene Kerviler and Ed. de Barthelemy. 



138 The Youth of 

without thought of recompense. Conrart was gen- 
erous and just, a loyal and indulgent friend who did 
good for the love of goodness. The wife of Con- 
rart was an excellent and worthy creature, who re- 
ceived dukes and peers and the ladies of the Court 
as simply as she received the friends of her youth ; 
she was not a respecter of persons and she saw no 
reason for embarrassment when the Marquise de 
Rambouillet wished to dine with her. She took 
pride in " pastelles," cordials, and other household 
delicacies, which she made and offered to her hus- 
band's friends with her own hands. 

Vaugelas was timid and innocent ; misfortune 
was his habit ; he had always been unfortunate, and 
no one expected him to be anything else. He was 
very poor ; he had been stripped of everything 
(even to the pension given him by the King) 
as punishment for following Gaston d'Orleans. 
Everything that he did turned against him. One 
day when he was in great need Mme. de Carignan 
told him that she would hire him as tutor ; she had 
two sons whom she aspired to educate according to 
the methods of the Hotel de Rambouillet. Natu- 
rally the impecunious Vaugelas thanked God for 
his rescue. When his pupils were presented to him 
he found that one of them was deaf and dumb, the 
other was a phenominal stutterer, barely able to 
articulate his name. Vaugelas had been so uni- 
formly unfortunate that his woes had created a 
nervous tension in the minds of the Circle, and 
every new report of his afflictions called forth an 



La Grande Mademoiselle 139 

outburst of hysterical laughter from his sympa- 
thisers. The Hotel de Rambouillet knew his in- 
trinsic value. Fair Arthenice and her company 
essayed to bring him forward, and failed ; he was 
bashful, an inveterate listener, obstinately silent ; in 
the Salon he sat with head drooping and with lips 
half open, eagerly listening to catch the delicately 
turned phrases of the quality, or to surprise some 
noble error ; a grammatical lapstis stung his keen 
perceptions, and he was frequently seen writh- 
ing as if in agony, no one knew why. In a word 
he was worthless in a salon, — and the same 
must be said of Corneille. Corneille felt that 
he was not brilliant, and he never attended the 
Salon unless he had written something new ; he 
read his plays to " the Circle " before he offered 
them to the publishers. Men of genius are not 
always creditable adjuncts to a salon ; Corneille 
was known in the fine world as "that fellow Cor- 
neille." As far as his capacity for furnishing the 
amount of amusement which all men individually 
owe it to their fellows to provide is concerned, it 
is enough to say that he was one of the church- 
wardens in his parochial district ; this fact, like the 
accident of birth, may pass as a circumstance ex- 
tenuating his involuntary evil. Speaking of the 
Salon la Bruyere wrote : " Corneille, another one 
who is seen there, is simple, timid, and — when he 
talks — a bore; he mistakes one word for another, 
and considers his plays good or bad in proportion 
to the money he gains by them. He does not 



I40 The Youth of 

know how to recite poetry, and he cannot read his 
own writing." 

In a club of pretty women ten Corneilles would 
not have been worth one Antoine Godeau. Godeau 
was as diminutive in his verse as in his person ; but 
he was a fiery fellow and a dashing gallant, always 
in love. When he was studying philosophy the 
German students in his boarding-house so attached 
themselves to his lively ways that they could not 
live away from him. The gravest of the book- 
worms thought that they could study better in his 
presence, and his chambers presented the appear- 
ance of a class-room. He sat enthroned at his 
table, and the Germans sat cross-legged around 
him blowing clouds from their china pipes and 
roaring with laughter at his sallies. He sang, he 
rhymed, he drank ; he was always cracking his 
funny jokes. He was born to love, and as he was 
naturally frivolous, his dulcineas were staked out 
all over the country awaiting his good pleasure. 
Presented to the Circle of the Hotel de Rambouil- 
let when he was very young, he paled the star of 
" little Voiture." When Voiture was at a distance 
from Paris Mile, de Rambouillet wrote to him : 
" There is a man here now who is a head shorter 
than you are, and who is, I swear to you, a thousand 
times more gallant ! " 

Godeau was a conqueror; he had "entrapped 
all the successes." Every one was amazed when 
it was discovered that he was a bishop, and they 
had barely recovered from their amazement when 



La Grande Mademoiselle 141 

it was learned that he was not only a bishop but 
a good bishop. He had other titles to distinc- 
tion (of one kind or another), " and withal he still 
remained " (as Sainte Beuve said) " the foppish 
spark of all that world." The only passport re- 
quired by the Hotel de Rambouillet was intellect. 
The Circle caressed Sarrazin, despite his base- 
ness, his knavery, his ignoble marriages, and his 
ridiculous appearance, because he was capable of 
a pleasant repartee when in general conversa- 
tion. George de Scudery, a " species of captain," 
was protected by the Circle because he was an 
author. Scudery was intolerable ! his brain cells 
were clogged by vanity, he was humming from 
morning till night with his head high in the clouds, 
beating his ancestors about the ears of any one who 
would listen to him, and prating of his "glory," his 
tragic comedies, and his epic poem Alaric. He 
was on tiptoe with delight because he had eclipsed 
Corneille. The Hotel de Rambouillet smiled upon 
CoUetet, the clever drunkard who had taken his 
three servants to wife, one after the other, and who 
had not talent enough to counterbalance his gipsy 
squalor. But all passed who could hold a pen. 
Many a scruple and many a qualm clamoured in 
vain for recognition when the fair creator of the 
Circle organised the Salon. Nothing can be cre- 
ated — not even a salon — without some sacrifice, 
and Mme. de Rambouillet laid a firm hand upon 
her predilections and made literary merit the only 
title to membership in the Salon. Every one knew 



142 The Youth of 

the way to the Hotel de Rambouillet. Every 
one but Balzac was seen there. Balzac lived in 
a distant department (la Charente), so it is prob- 
able that he knew Mme. de Rambouillet only by 
letter, though he is named as an attendant of 
the Salon. Had the Salon existed in this day it 
is possible that our moderns, who demand a finer 
mortar, would have left the coarser pebbles in the 
screen, but Mme. de Rambouillet closed her eyes, 
put forth her hand, and as blindly as Justice drew 
authors out of their obscure corners and placed 
them on a footing with the fine flower of the Court 
and the choice spirits of the city, with all that was 
gay or witty, with all who were possessed of curi- 
osity concerning the things of the mind. She forced 
the frivolous to habituate themselves to serious 
things, she compelled the pedants to toss their caps 
to the thistles, to cast aside their pretensions and 
their long-drawn-out phrases, and to stand forth as 
men. No one carried the accoutrements of his 
authorship into the Blue Room, no one was per- 
mitted to play the part of "pedant pedantising " ; 
all was light, rapid, ephemeral ; the atmosphere 
was fine and clear, and to add to the tranquil aspect 
of the scene, several very youthful ladies (the young 
daughters of Mme. de Rambouillet and "la pucelle 
Priande " among others) were permitted to pass 
like butterflies among the thoughtful groups ; their 
presence completed the illusion of pastoral festivity. 
Before that time young girls had never mingled 
freely with their elders. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 143 

As mixed as the gatherings were, and as radical 
as was the social revolution of the Salon, the pres- 
ence of innocent youth imposed the tone of careful 
propriety. I am not counting "La Belle Paulet" 
as an innocent young girl, though she too was of 
the Salon. Paulet was called " the lioness " because 
of the ardent blonde colour of her hair ; she was 
young enough, and amiable even to excess, but she 
had had too much experience. She was " a bit 
of driftwood," one of several of her kind whom 
Mme. de Rambouillet had fished from the vortex, 
dried, catechised, absolved, and restored to reg- 
ular conduct and consideration. Neither do I class 
" the worthy Scudery" among young girls. She 
could not have been called '* young " at any age. 
She was (to quote one of her contemporaries) " a 
tall, black, meagre person, with a very long face, 
prolix in discourse, with a tone of voice like a 
schoolmaster, which is not at all agreeable." Al- 
though Tallemant drew this picture, its lines are 
not exaggerated. It is impossible to regard Mile, 
de Scudery as a young girl. When I say that 
there were young girls in the Salon, I have in mind 
the daughters of the house, from whom emanated 
excess of delicacy, precocity, and decadence, Julie 
d'Angennes, for whom was created " the garland of 
Julie," who became Mme. Montausier, Angeliquede 
Rambouillet, — the first of de Grignan's three wives, 
— and Mile, de Bourbon, who married de Longue- 
ville, and at a later day was known as the heroine 
of the Hotel-de-Ville. We must not imagfine that a 



144 The Youth of 

reception at the Hotel de Rambouillet was a convo- 
cation like a seance at the Institute of France. At 
such an assembly a de Sevigne, a Paulet, a La- 
fayette would have been out of place, nor would 
they have consented to sit like students in class dis- 
cussing whether it were better to say avoine and 
sarge (the pronunciation given by the Court) or 
aveine and serge (the pronunciation used by the 
grain-handlers in the hay-market). Neither would 
it have been worth while to collect such spirits had 
the sole object been a discussion of the last new 
book, or the last new play ; but literary and gram- 
matical questions were rocks in the seas on which 
the brilliant explorer of the Blue Ro'om had set 
sail and on the rocks she had planted her buoys. 
She navigated sagaciously, taking the sun, sound- 
ing and shaping her course to avoid danger. " As- 
saults of eloquence," however important, were cut 
short before they resembled the lessons of the 
schoolroom. Before the innovation of the Salon, 
the critics had dealt out discipline with heavy 
hands. We are confounded by the solemnity with 
which Conrart informed Balzac of a "tournament" 
between Voiture and Chapelain on the subject of 
one of Ariosto's comedies, when " decisions " were 
rendered with all the precision of legal sentences by 
" the hermit of Angoumois." ^ So manifest a waste 
of energy proved that it was time for the world's 
people to interfere, to restrain the savants from tak- 
ing to heart things which were not worth their pains. 

' Mme. de Kerviler and Ed. de Barthelemy, he. cit. 



La Grande Mademoiselle i45 

The authors produced their plays or their poems 
and carried their manuscripts to the Hotel de Ram- 
bouillet, where they read them in the presence of 
the company, and the circle listened, approved, 
criticised, and exchanged opinions. All of Cor- 
neille's masterpieces cleared that port in disguise ; 
their creator presenting them as the works of a 
strange author. When he read Polyeucte the Salon 
supposed that the drama was the work of a person 
unknown to them ; all listened intently and criticised 
freely. No one suspected the real author, and 
when the last word was read, Voiture made haste 
to warn Corneille that he " would better lock up the 
play." When the Circle first heard the Cid they 
acclaimed it, and declared that it was the work of 
genius. Richelieu objected to it, and the Salon 
defended it against him. Books and plays were 
not the only subjects of discussion ; in the Blue 
Room letters from the absent were read to the 
company, verses were improvised and declaimed, 
plays were enacted, and delicately refined expres- 
sions were sought with which to clothe the senti- 
ment and the passion of love. Great progress was 
made in the exercise of wit, and at times the circle, 
excited by the clash of mind with mind, exhibited 
the effervescent joy o^ children at play when fun 
runs riot in the last moment of recess, before the 
bell rings to recall them to the schoolroom. At 
such a time the members of the Circle were mar- 
shalled back to order and set down before the 
savants to contemplate the " ologies." Such was 



146 The Youth of 

the first period of the reign of the Pr^cieuses, a 
period whose history La Bruyere gathered from 
the recitals of the old men of that day. 

Voiture and Sarrazin were born for their cen- 
tury, and they appeared just at the time when they 
might have been expected ; had they come for- 
ward with less precipitation they would have been 
too late ; it is probable that had they come in our 
day they would have been just what they were at 
their own epoch. When they came upon the stage 
the light, sparkling conversations, the " circles " of 
meditative and critical groups convened to argue 
the literary and aesthetic questions of the day, had 
vanished, with the finely marked differences, the 
spiritual jests, the coquettish meanings hidden 
amidst the overshadowing gravity of serious dis- 
cussion. 

The Circle no longer formed little parties admit- 
ting only the men who had proved their title to 
intellect ; but the fame of the first Salon de Ram- 
bouillet — or, to speak better, the fame of the 
ideal Salon of the world — still clung to its successor. 
As children listen to tales told by their grand- 
fathers, the delicate mind of Voiture listened to 
the story of those first days ; Sarrazin the Gross 
might scoff, but Voiture gloried in the thought 
that it had all been true ; the lights, the music, the 
merry jests, the spring flowers growing in the 
autumn, the flashing lances of the spirit, the gay 
letters from the absent. . . . And well might 
he glory ! there had, in truth, been one supreme 



La Grande Mademoiselle 147 

moment in the literary life qf France, a moment 
as rapid, as fleeting as a smile, lost even as it came, 
never to appear again until long after the pigmy 
body which enshrined the winged soul that loved 
to dream of it had turned to dust. 

The memory of that first Salon was still so 
vivid that Saint Simon wrote : " The Hotel de 
Rambouillet was the trysting-place of all then ex- 
istent of knowledge and of wit ; it was a redoubt- 
able tribunal, where the world and the Court were 
brought to judgment." 

But the followers of Arthenice did not shrink 
from mundane pleasures. In the gracious pres- 
ence of their hostess the young people danced 
from love of action, laughed from love of 
laughter, and, dressed to represent the heroes and 
the heroines of Astr^e, or to represent the trades- 
men of Paris, went into the country on picnics, 
and enacted plays for the amusement of their 
guests, playing all the pranks of collegians in 
vacation. One day when they were all at the 
Chateau de Rambouillet the Comte de Guiche ate 
a great many mushrooms. In the night one of 
the gay party stole into his room and *' took in " 
all the seams in his Q^arments. In the morninor It 
was impossible for de Guiche to dress ; everything 
was too narrow to be buttoned ; In vain he tuesred 
at the edges of his garments, — nothing would 
come together ; the Comte was racked by anx- 
iety. " Can It be," he asked anxiously, " because 



148 The Youth of 

I ate too many mushrooms? Can it be possible 
that I am bloated?" His friends answered that 
it might well be possible. " You know," said 
they, "that you ate till you were fit to burst." De 
Guiche hurried to his mirror, and when he saw his 
apparently swollen body and the gaps in his cloth- 
ing, he trembled, and declared that he was dying ; 
as he was livid and about to swoon, his friends, 
thinking that the jest had gone far enough, un- 
deceived him. Mme. de Rambouillet was very 
fond of inventing surprises for her friends, but her 
jests were of a more gallant character. One day 
while they were at the Chateau de Rambouillet 
she proposed to the Bishop de Lisieux, who was 
one of her guests, to walk into the fields adjoin- 
ing the chateau, where there was, as she said, a 
circle of natural rocks set among great trees. 
The Bishop accepted her invitation, and history 
tells us that "when he was so near the rocks 
that he could distinguish them through the trees, 
he perceived in various places, as if scattered 
about — [I hardly know how to tell it] — objects 
fairly white and glistening! As he advanced it 
seemed to him that he could discern figures of 
women in the guise of nymphs. The Marquise 
insisted that she could not see anything but trees 
and rocks, but on advancing to the spot they 
found — Mile, de Rambouillet and the other 
young ladies of the house arrayed, and very ef- 
fectively, as nymphs ; they were seated upon the 
rocks, where they made the most agreeable of pic- 



La Grande Mademoiselle 149 

tures." The eood fellow was so charmed with the 
pleasantry that thereafter he never saw " fair 
Arthenice " without speaking of " the Rocks of 
Rambouillet."^ The Bishop de Lisieux was an ex- 
cellent priest ; decorum did not oppose such sur- 
prises, even when the one surprised was a bishop. 
One day when the ladies were disguised to repre- 
sent shepherdesses, de Richelieu's brother, the 
Archbishop of Lyons, appeared among them in 
the dress of a shepherd. 

One of the most agreeable of Voiture's letters 
(addressed to a cardinal) ^ contains an account of 
a trip that he had made into the country with the 
Demoiselles de Rambouillet and de Bourbon, cha- 
peroned by " Madame the Princess," mother of the 
great Conde ; Mile. Paulet (the bit of driftwood) 
and several others were of the party. 

We departed from Paris about six o'clock in the evening, 
[wrote Voiture], to go to La Barre,' where Mme. de Vigean 
was to give collation to Madame the Princess. . . . We 
arrived at La Barre and entered an audience-room in which 
there was nothing but a carpet of roses and of orange blos- 
soms for us to walk upon. After having admired this mag- 
nificence, Madame the Princess wished to visit the promenade 
halls while we were waiting for supper. The sun was setting 
in a cloud of gold and azure, and there was only enough of it 
left to give a soft and misty light. The wind had gone down, 
it was cool and pleasant, and it seemed to us that earth and 
heaven had met to favour Mme. de Vigean's wish to feast the 
most beautiful Princess in the world. 

' Tallemant. 'Cardinal La Valette. 

^ Near Enghieii. 



I50 The Youth of 

Having passed a large parterre, and great gardens, all full 
of orange trees, we arrived at a wood which the sunlight had 
not entered in more than an hundred years, until it entered 
there (in the person of Madame). At the foot of an avenue 
so long that we could not fathom its vista with our eyes until 
we had reached the end of it, we found a fountain which threw 
out more water than was ever thrown by all the fountains of 
Tivoli put together. Around the fountain were ranged twenty- 
four violinists with their violins, and their music was hardly 
able to cover the music of the fountain. When we drew near 
them we discovered a niche in the palisado, and in the niche 
was a Diana eleven or twelve years old, more beautiful than 
any goddess of the forests of Greece or of Thessaly. She 
bore her arrows in her eyes, and all the rays of the halo of her 
brother surrounded her. In another niche was one of Diana's 
nymphs, beautiful and sweet enough to attend Diana. They 
who doubt fables said that the two visions were only Mile, de 
Bourbon and la Pucelle Priande; and, to tell the truth, there 
was some ground for their belief, for even we who have always 
put faith in fables, we who knew that we were looking upon a 
supernatural vision, recognised a close resemblance. Every 
one was standing motionless and speechless, with admiration 
for all the objects so astonishing both to ear and to eye, when 
suddenly the goddess sprang from her niche and with ^race 
that cannot be described, began a dance around the fountain 
which lasted some time, and in which every one joined. 

(Here Volture, who was under obligations to his 
correspondent. Cardinal de La Valette, represents 
himself as having wept because the Cardinal was 
not there. According to Voiture's account he com- 
municated his grief to all the company.) 

. . . And I should have wept, and, in fact, we all should 
have mourned too long, had not the violins quickly played a 
saraband so gay that every one sprang up and danced as joy- 
ously as if there had been no mourning; and thus, jumping, 



La Grande Mademoiselle 151 

dancing, whirling, pirouetting, and capering, we arrived at the 
house, where we found a table dressed as delicately as if the 
faeries had served it. And now, Monseigneur, I come to a 
part of the adventure which cannot be described ! Truly, 
there are no colours nor any figures of rhetoric to represent 
the six kinds of luscious soups, all different, which were first 
placed before us before anything else was served. And among 
other things were twelve different kinds of meats, under the 
most unimaginable disguises, such as no one had ever heard of, 
and of which not one of us has learned the name to this day! 
As we were leaving the table the music of the violins called us 
quickly up the stairs, and when we reached the upper floor we 
found an audience-room turned into a ball-room, so well lighted 
that it seemed to us that the sun, which had entirely disap- 
peared from earth, had gone around in some unknown way 
and climbed up there to shine upon us and to make it as 
bright as any daylight ever seen. There the dance began 
anew, and even more perfectly than when we had danced 
around the fountain ; and more magnificent than all else, 
Monseigneur, is this, that / danced there ! Mile, de Bourbon 
said that, truth to tell, I danced badly, but that doubtless I 
should make an excellent swordsman, because, at the end of 
every cadence, I straightened as if to fall back on guard. 

The fete ended in a display of fireworks, after 
which the company ** took the road " for Paris by 
the light of twenty flambeaux, singing with all the 
strength of their lungs. When they reached the 
village of La Villette they caught up with the vio- 
linists, who had started for the city as soon as the 
dance was ended and before the party left the cha- 
teau. One of the gayest of the company insisted 
that the violinists should play, and that they should 
dance right there in the street of the village. It 
was between two and three o'clock in the morninsf 



152 The Youth of 

and Voiture was tired out ; he " blessed Heaven " 
when it was discovered that the vioHns had been 
left at La Barre. 

At last [Voiture wrote to the Cardinal] we reached Paris. 
. . . Impenetrable darkness wrapped the city, silence and 
solitude lay on every hand, the streets were deserted, and we 
saw no people, but now and then small animals, frightened 
by the glaring flames of our torches, fled before us, and we 
saw them hiding on the shadowy corners. 

We learn from this letter how the companions of 
the Hotel de Rambouillet passed their evenings. 

In Paris and in the distant provinces there were 
many imitations of the Salon ; the germs of the 
enterprise had taken root all over France with 
literary results, which became the subject of serious 
study. The political consequences of the literary 
and social innovations claimed less attention. The 
domestication of the nobility originated in the 
Salon. When delicacy of manner was introduced 
as obligatory, the nobleman was in full possession 
of the rights of power ; he could hunt and torture 
animals and inferior men, he could make war upon 
his neighbours, he could live in egotistical isolation, 
enjoying the luxuries bestowed by his seigniory, 
while the lower orders died of hunger at his door, 
because his rank was manifested by his freedom 
from rules which bound classes below his quality. 
The diversions introduced at the Salon de Ram- 
bouillet exacted sacrifice of self to the convenience 
of others. In the abstract this was an excellent 
thing, but its reaction was felt by the aristocracy ; 




LOUIS XIII., KING OF FRANCE AND OF NAVARRE 

FROM AN OLD PRINT 



La Grande Mademoiselle 153 

from restraining their selfishness the gallant cour- 
tiers passed on to the self-renunciation of the 
ancient Crusaders, and when Louis XIV. saw fit 
(for his own reasons) to turn his nobles into peace- 
ful courtiers and grand barons of the ante-cham- 
ber, he found that his work had all been done ; it 
was not possible to convert his warriors into cour- 
tiers, for he had no warriors ; all the warriors had 
turned to knights of the carpet ; their swords were 
wreathed with roses, and the ringing notes which 
had called men to arms had changed to the sighing 
murmurs of Durandarte ; every man sat in a per- 
fumed bower busily employed in making " sonnets 
to his mistress's eyebrows." Louis XIV. fumed be- 
cause his Court resembled a salon ; the incompara- 
ble Arthenice had given the restless cavaliers a 
taste for fine conversation and innocent pleasures, 
and by doing so she had minced the King's spoon- 
meat too fine ; the absolute monarch could only 
modify a transformation accomplished independent 
of his will. 

We have now to determine how much of their 
false exalted sentiment and their false ambition the 
princes, the chevaliers of the Fronde, and all the 
gallants of the quality owed to the dramatic theatre 
of their day ; that estimated, we shall have gained 
a fair idea of the chief elements of the social body 
idealised by Corneille, — of all the elements save 
one, the element of Religion ; that was a thing 
apart, to be considered especially and in its own 
time. 



CHAPTER III 

I. The Earliest Influences of the Theatre — II. Mademoiselle and the 
School of Corneille — III. Marriage Projects — IV. The Cinq-Mars 
Affair — Close of the Reign. 

I 

T A GRANDE MADEMOISELLE and her 
■I— ' companions cherished the still existent pas- 
sion for the theatre, which is a characteristic of the 
French people. The great received comedians, or 
actors, in their palaces ; the palace had audience- 
rooms prepared to permit of the presentation of 
theatrical plays ; in the summer, when the social 
world went into the country, the comedians accom- 
panied or followed them to their chateaux. So- 
ciety required the diversion of the play when it 
journeyed either for pleasure or for duty, and play- 
acting, whatever its quality and whatever the sub- 
ject of its action, elicited the indulgent satisfaction 
and the applause that it elicits to-day, be its subject 
and its quality good or bad. At the end of the 
sixteenth century, play-actors superseded the ma- 
gicians who until that time had afforded public 
amusement ; the people hailed the change with 
enthusiasm ; and the innovation prevailed. The 
courtiers loved the spectacle, and from the begin- 
ning of the reign of Louis XIII. the Court and 

154 



La Grande Mademoiselle 155 

the comedy were inseparable. Louis XIII. had 
witnessed the play in early infancy. In 16 14, when 
the King and the Court went upon a journey they 
lingered upon the road between Paris and Nantes 
six weeks, halting to witness the plays then being 
given in the cities along their route, and receiving 
their favourite actors in their own lodgings. The 
King was less than thirteen years old, yet it 
is stated in the journal kept by Herouard, the 
King's physician, that the child was regaled with 
theatrical plays throughout his journey. At Tours 
he was taken to the Abbey of Saint Julian to wit- 
ness the French comedy given by de Courtenvaut, 
who lodged at the abbey. At Paris the little 
King went to the palace with the Queen to see a 
play given bY the pupils of the Jesuit Brothers. 
At Loudun the King ordered a play, and it was 
given in his own house ; at La Fleche he 
attended three theatrical entertainments in one 
day. To quote from the doctor's (Herouard's) 
journal : 

The King attended mass and from mass he went to the 
Jesuits' college, where he saw the collegians play and recite 
a pastoral. After dinner he returned to the college of the 
Jesuits, where in the great hall, the tragedy of Godefroy 
de Bouillon was represented ; then in the grand alley of the 
park, at four o'clock, the comedy of Clorinde was played be- 
fore the Queen. 

When Gaston d'Orleans took his young wife to 
Chantilly immediately after his marriage, he sent 
for a troupe of comedians, who went to the chateau 



156 The Youth of 

with their band and with vioHns, — "thus," reports 
a contemporary, " rendering the Httle journey very 
diverting." On the occasion aheady mentioned, 
when the same Prince conducted his daughter to 
Tours so that he might present Louison Roger to 
her, he did not permit the Httle Princess to languish 
for the theatre. " Monsieur sent for the co- 
medians," wrote Mademoiselle, " and we had the 
comedy nearly every day."^ When Monsieur re- 
turned to his chateau in Blois his troupe followed 
him. When Mademoiselle returned to the Tuileries 
(November, 1637) she found a private theatre in 
every house to which she was invited. 

Actors worked without respite ; they had no 
vacations ; they played in the French, in the 
Spanish, and in the Italian languages ; and English 
comedy also, played by English actors, was seen in 
Paris. Richelieu's theatre in the H6tei de Riche- 
lieu ^ '* was provided with two audience halls, — one 
large, the other small. Both were luxuriously 
mounted. The decorations and the costumes of 
the actors displayed such magnificence that the 
audience murmured with deliofht." 

The Gazette de France, which bestowed nothing 
but an occasional casual notice upon the royal 
theatre of the King's palace, dilated admiringly 
upon the Theatre de Richelieu and the marvels 
with which the Cardinal regaled his guests. The 
Gazette reported the occasion of the presentation 

■ Mademoiselle was ten years old at that time. 
''■ The Palais-Royal of to-day. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 157 

of " the excellent comedy written by Sieur Baro," 
and the ballet which followed it. 

The ballet was interlaced by a double collation. One part 
of the collation was composed of the rarest and most de- 
licious of fruits; the other part was composed of confitures in 
little baskets, which eighteen dancing pages presented to the 
guests. The baskets were all trimmed with English ribands 
and with golden and silvern tissue. The pages presented the 
baskets to the lords and then the lords distributed them 
among the ladies. 

Mademoiselle was one of the company, and she 
received her basket with profound satisfaction. 
Three days after the first comedy of Baro was played 
the Court a^ain visited the Cardinal's theatre to 
witness a second play by the same author. Baro 
was a well-known literary hack. He had been 
d'Urfe's secretary and had continued Astrde when 
d'Urfe laid down his pen. The success of the 
second representation was phenomenal. 

The ornamentation of the theatre [commented the Gazette\, 
the pretty, ingenious tricks invented by the author, the ex- 
cellences of the verse . . . the ravishing concert of the 
lutes, the harpsichords, and the other instruments, the elocu- 
tion, the gestures, and the costumes of the actors compromised 
the honour of all the plays that have been seen either in past 
centuries or in our own century. 

We consider Baro's plays insipid, but they were 
very successful in their day. 

February 19th was a gala day at the Theatre de 
Richelieu. A fete was given in honour of the Duke 
of Parma. First of all they gave a very fine 



158 The Youth of 

comedy, with complete change of play, with inter- 
ludes ; lutes, spinnets, viols, and violins were 
played. 

The Gazette de France tells us that there was a 
ballet, and then a supper, at which the guests saw 
" the fine buffet, all of white silver," which the 
Cardinal gave to the King some years later. 
Though the theatre was the chief amusement in 
1636, the theatrical representations and ballets, 
" interlaced by collations " and by interludes, were 
considered a good deal of dancing and a good deal 
of play-acting for a priest, even when disseminated 
over a period of three weeks. 

The conclusion of the report in the Gazette 
proved that Richelieu was conscious of his acts, 
and that he did not disdain to justify himself. 
" Without flattering- his Eminence," said the 
Gazette, " it may be said that all which takes place 
by his orders is always in conformity with reason 
and with right, and that the duties which he ren- 
ders to the State never conflict with those that 
all Christians owe — and which he, in particular, 
owes — to the Church." Mademoiselle attended 
all the f€tes, and she was less than ten years old. 
She, herself, gave a ball and a comedy in honour of 
the Queen in the palace of the Tuileries. 

In that day children in their nurses' arms were 
taken to see the play. A contemporary engrav- 
ing depicts the royal family at the theatre in 
Richelieu's palace. The " hall " is in the form of an 
immense salon much long-er than it is broad ; at 



La Grande Mademoiselle 159 

one end is the stage, raised by five steps ; along 
the walls are two ranks of galleries for the invited 
guests. The women sit in the lower gallery, the 
men sit above them ; seats have been brought into 
the centre of the hall, and. on them sit Louis XIII, 
and his family. In the picture Monsieur is sitting 
on the King's left hand. On Anne of Austria's 
right hand, in a little arm-chair made for a child, 
sits the Dauphin, who must have been three, or 
possibly four, years old at that time. On the right 
hand of the Queen, beyond the Dauphin, stands a 
woman holding a great doll-like infant, the brother 
of the Dauphin. 

The playgoing infantine assiduity, the custom of 
carrying children in swaddling bands to the theatre 
to witness comedies of every species, good or bad, 
assured the theatre of a position in public educa- 
tion ; the children of the aristocracy drank in the 
drama with eye and ear — if I dare express myself 
thus — and at an age when reason was not present 
to correct the effect of impressions. The repertory 
of the theatre was one of the most dramatically 
romantic and sentimental ever known to France and 
the one of all others best fitted to turn a generation 
from sound reality to false and fantastic visions. 

The general movement of that day may be classed 
as an aberration due to the fact that the drama 
was a new pleasure ; the inconveniences attendant 
upon its influences had not been recognised, but it 
is probable that some of the condemnations uttered 
by the moralists and by the preachers of the seven- 



i6o The Youth of 

teenth century in the name of reHgion and of de- 
cency were called forth by the presence of children 
at the play ; the men who were most bitter in de- 
nunciations which amaze us by the excess of their 
hostility spoke from experience and had reason for 
their bitterness. The Prince de Conti, the brother 
of the great Conde, might have furnished unique 
commentaries on the criticisms of the day, had he 
cared to recall a treatise which he wrote {The 
Plays of the Theatre, and Spectacles) when he was 
emerging from a youth far from edifying. 

The treatise was written for the benefit of light- 
minded people, who saw no harm in playgoing. 
In the beginning of his work the Prince said : 
" I hope to prove that comedy in its present condi- 
tion is not the innocent amusement that it is con- 
sidered ; I hope to prove that a true Christian must 
regard it as an evil." As his treatise progressed it 
became explicit ; his arraignment was animated by 
Astrie ; he declared that a play free from the 
sentimentality aud the passions of love and from 
the thoughts and the actions of lovers was not 
acceptable to the public. Love forms the founda- 
tion of the play, and therefore it must be discussed 
freely from its first principles. " Now a play, how- 
ever fine its dramatic composition may be, can 
have no other effect than to disgust refined minds 
and to ruin the reputations of its actors, unless the 
love on which it is based is represented delicately, 
and in a tenderly impassioned manner. And as 
few actors are capable of producing a perfect 



La Grande Mademoiselle i6i 

representation of the most subtle and many-sided of 
passions, the general effect of our comedy is de- 
teriorating. As its basis and its structure depend 
upon one single subject, it can have but one sub- 
ject of interest. Our comedies are considered com- 
mendable according to their manners of discussing 
love ; the divers beauties of our dramas consist in 
their various exposures of the intimate effects of 
love. Love is the theme, and the mind must 
either accept it and work upon it or rest unem- 
ployed ; there is no choice ; no other theme is 
given. When love is not the chief agent, it serves 
as an irritant to draw out some other passion and 
to make sensuous display not only possible but 
cogent, if not imperatively necessary ; be the play 
what it may, love is represented as the "passion 
ruling the heart." Conti opposed to the popular 
" corruption of the drama " the grave lessons offered 
by the great tragedies. Segrais treated the subject 
in the same way ; he said: " During more than forty 
years nearly all of the subjects of our plays have been 
drawn from Astr^e, and, generally speaking, the dra- 
matists have been satisfied with their work if they 
have changed to verse the phrases which d'Urfe 
put in the mouths of his characters in plain prose." 
Segfrais exagfoferated. Astrde did not furnish 
" nearly all " of the subjects of the plays ; but the 
extraordinary importance of stage love and of stage 
lovers was drawn from Astr^e, and, despite the tem- 
porary reaction due to Corneille, Astrde persuaded 
the great body of French society that there was 



1 62 The Youth of 

nothing pathetic in the world but love, and neither 
our dramatists nor our moralists have been able to 
break away from an error which singularly circum- 
scribes their art. Love is now the subject of the 
romance and of the play, as it was in the early 
days of La Grande Mademoiselle. 

Invitations to the Louvre or to the homes of 
the great were not too easy to procure, and there 
were many people who never entered the private 
theatres ; but there were two " paying theatres," or 
theatres to which the public were admitted on pay- 
ing a fixed price ; one of the two houses was the 
Hotel de Bourgogne, which stood in the rue Mau- 
conseil, between the rue Montmartre and the rue 
Saint Denis ; the other was the Theatre du Marais, 
in the Veille rue du Temple. The Marais was 
then an out-of-the-way quarter, very dangerous 
after nightfall. I have not spoken of this place 
until now, because it was almost impossible for any 
one in the polite society of which I have written to 
visit it. No woman dared to enter the Marais unless 
she lived there. The woman of quality could not 
even think of entering it except on gala days, when 
the Court of France went in a body to visit the play- 
actors in their own quarter. At ordinary times the 
Hotel de Bourgogne "was neither a good place 
nor a safe place." In form and arrangement the 
audience hall was like the hall of the Theatre de 
Richelieu ; two galleries, one above the other, ran 
the whole length of the walls, and in certain places 
the walls were connected with the gallery to form 



La Grande Mademoiselle 163 

stalls or boxes. The parterre was a vast space In 
which people watched the play standing. In that 
part of the theatre there were no seats. An hour, 
or perhaps two hours, before the play began the 
great unclean space was filled with the most boist- 
erous and ungovernable representatives of the 
dregs of Paris and with all the active members 
of the lesser classes ^ : students, pages, lackeys, arti- 
sans, drunkards, the scum of the canaille, and pro- 
fessional thieves ; and there, on the floor of the 
parterre, they gambled, lunched, drank, and fought 
each other with stones, with swords, or with any 
weapon which came to hand ; and as they gratified 
their appetites or abused their neighbours, all strove 
in the way best known to them to protect their 
purses and to keep the thieves from carrying off 
their cloaks. The air resounded with shouts, 
shrieks, songs, and obscene apostrophes. Contem- 
porary writers regarded everything as fit for the rec- 
ord, and therefore In all our researches we come 
upon heartrending evidences of inenarrable deprav- 
ity. The charivari of the assistants of the pit 
continued throughout the performance, ending only 
when the vociferous throngs were turned Into the 
streets so that the theatre might be locked for the 
night. At their quietest the spectators of the par- 
terre were noisy and obstreperous. To quote one 
of their chroniclers ^ : 

^ Alex. Hardy et le t/iMtre franfaise, Eugene Rigal. 

'Sorel, La fnaison des jeux. The book was published in 1642, but M. E. 
Rigal supposes that the disorders and the complaints cited in it date from a 
previous epoch. 



i64 The Youth of 

"In their most perfect repose they continued to 
talk, to whistle, and to scream without ceasing ; 
they did not care at all to hear what the comedians 
were saying." We differ from the chroniclers as 
to this last opinion ; it is probable that they cared 
only too much ; it was to please the rabble that 
abominably gross farces were played in the paying 
theatres. Tragedy was relished only by the higher 
classes. 

An eye-witness, the Abbe d'Aubignac,^ wrote : 
" We see that tragedies are liked better than come- 
dies at the Court of France ; while among the less- 
er people comedies, and even farces and unclean 
buffooneries are considered more amusing than 
tragedies." The same D'Aubignac wrote in or 
about the year 1666 : " Fifty years ago an honest 
woman dared not q-q to the theatre."^ Between 
the universally ardent desire to enjoy the fashion- 
able form of pleasure and the efforts to make the 
stage less licentious the purification of the drama 
was accomplished. 

The increasing delicacy of the public taste de- 
manded a reform, and in deference to it the moral 
atmosphere of both of the popular theatres was re- 
newed at the same time ; a new and decent reper- 
tory was adopted, and the foul programme of the 
past was cast away. Popular feeling acclaimed 
the change and hastened the accomplishment of the 
reformation. 

• La pratique du tJiMtre. 

^ Certainly the desire was not lacking. — Author. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 165 

At the time when the Cid'^ was played the lower 
classes had ceased to rule the paying theatres ; the 
masses went out of Paris for their pleasure ; to the 
fairs of Saint Laurent and Saint Germain, and to 
the entertainments on the Pont-Neuf or the Place 
Dauphine ; they crowded around the trestled 
planks, they hung about the stands of the charla- 
tans, the buffoons, and the trick players. The pay- 
ing theatres were filled by the upper middle classes. 
Women who had not dared to go to the play in 
1620 attended the theatre of the Hdtel de Bour- 
gogne as freely as they would have attended or as 
they did attend the Luxembourg.^ The fine world 
of the quality had found its way to the theatre of 
the Marais ; the Cid was in course of representa- 
tion when the stage of the Marais and the court- 
iers thronged to the obscure quarter to witness its 
marvels. The Cid was played in the private the- 
atres as well as in the H6tel de Bourgogne. M. 
Lanson tells us that the comedians were sum- 
moned to the Louvre three times and twice to the 
Hotel de Richelieu, but the great were too impatient 
to wait for the play to come to them, they ran to 
meet it ; every one longed to see it not at a future 
time but on the instant, and therefore they flocked 
to the Veille rue du Temple. 

In 1637 (i8th January) Mondory, the actor, who 
played the part of Rodrigue, wrote to Balzac : 

' Le theatre au temps dii Corneille, Gustave Reynier. The first represent- 
ation of the Cid took place either in December, 1636, or in January, 1637. 

' See dedicatory letter accompanying a comedy played in 1632 and pub- 
lished in 1636. Galanteries du due d^Ossonne. Mairet. 



1 66 The Youth of 

Last night they who are usually seen in the Gold Room and 
on seats bearing the fleur-de-lys, were visible upon our benches 
not singly but in groups. At our doors the crowd was so 
great, and our place was so small, that the nooks which ordin- 
arily serve as recesses for the pages, were reserved for the 
Knights of the Saint Esprit ; and the whole scene was be- 
dight with Chevaliers of the Order. 

All women could attend the play at will ; and 
they all ardently v/ished to attend it, not once but 
always. They who saw it at Court, or at the 
houses of the great, were none the less anxious to 
frequent the paying theatres, where, though the 
scene had been purged of many of its abuses, the 
spectacle differed essentially from that presented to 
the great. Many distinct peculiarities of the old 
plays had been retained ; added to that was the 
novelty of the place, and the lack of courtly cere- 
mony, and the diversion afforded two different spec- 
tacles : the play and the audience. Like the children 
of the great, the wives and the daughters of the in- 
ferior classes abused their privilege and visited the 
theatre incessantly and the rich and the poor suf- 
fered from the influences of the superficial amuse- 
ment. The play tended to deceive the mind, and 
to give a false impression of the aims and the needs 
of life. The majority of women were ignorant ; 
they had never learned anything. If they could 
read they read works of fiction, and their literature 
was calculated to foster illusions. Exaltedly ideal- 
istic as Astrde had been, the writings of La Cal- 
prenede, de Gomberville, and others of their school 
were still more sentimentally romantic ; compared 



La Grande Mademoiselle 167 

with his successors, Honore d' Urfe was a realist. 
The influence of the theatre was shown in the in- 
tellectual development of woman, the imagination 
of all classes was encouraged, the more useful men- 
tal agents were neglected, and the minds of the 
people were visibly weak and ill-balanced ; the gen- 
eral impulse was to seek adventures on any road and 
at any price. The thirst for unknown sensations 
was a fully developed desire in their day, so we can- 
not with justice class it as a '* curiosity " emanating 
from the inventive imaginations of the decadents. 

The writer, Pierre Costar, wilfully lingered three 
weeks in a tertian fever so that he might enjoy 
the sickly dreams which accompanied the recurrent 
paroxysms of the disease. In our day Pierre Cos- 
tar would be an opium-eater, or a morphinomaniac. 

II 

La Grande Mademoiselle owed much of her 
turn of mind to the dramatic plays that she had 
watched from infancy. I doubt if she was given 
any lessons in history, or that she had any lessons 
of the kind before she reached her twenty-fifth 
year, when she acquired a taste for reading. All 
that she knew of history had been gleaned by 
her from the tragedies that she had seen at the 
theatre, and as she was refractory to the sentiment 
of Astree, it cannot be inferred that she had 
learned much from d'Urfe ; so it may be said that 
Corneille was her teacher in all branches of learn- 
ing, that no one of that time was in deeper debt 
to the influence that he exerted over minds, and 



1 68 The Youth of 

that no one so plainly manifested his influence. 
From the education afforded by Corneille came 
good and evil mingled. As we follow the course 
of Mademoiselle's life we are forced to admit that 
however high and noble were the ideas sown 
broadcast by Corneille, they were not always de- 
void of inconveniences when they fell among people 
whose experimental knowledge and practicality 
were inferior to their susceptibility to impressions. 

In the years which followed the advent of the 
Cid Corneille was the literary head of France ; he 
had discovered the French scene througfh the influ- 
ence of d'Urfe, but his power was his own, and it was 
an inherent power ; he was the creator of a tendency. 

The unclean farce, which delighted the lock- 
pickers and the gamblers of the Paris of those 
days, has no place here, because it has no place in 
literature. When "good company" invaded the 
paying theatres the farce followed the canaille 
and took its place upon the trestled stages of the 
Pont-Neuf. The farce played a part of its own, 
in a world unknown to Mademoiselle ; but the 
pastoral demands our attention, not only because 
it was in high favour in Mademoiselle's society, but 
because Corneille exerted his influence asfainst it. 

In the pastoral, love took possession of the 
stage, as it had been announced to do, in the play 
which opened the way for its successors, Tasso's 
Aminta} In the prologue the son of Venus ap- 

' Aminta was played in 1573, but it was not imprinted until 1581, when 
it was first known outside of Italy. 




CORNEILLE 

FROM AN ENGRAVING OF THE PAINTING BY LEBRUN 



La Grande Mademoiselle 169 

peared disguised as a shepherd, and declaimed, for 
the benefit of the other shepherds, a discourse 
which, little by little, became the programme of all 
imaorinative literature : 

o 

To-day these forests shall be heard speaking of love in a 
new way. ... I will inspire gross hearts with noble 
sentiments; I will subdue their language and make soft their 
voices; for, wherever I may be, I still am Love; in shepherds 
as in heroes. I establish, if so it please me, equality in all 
conditions, no matter how unequal; and my supreme glory, 
and the miracle of all my power, is to change the rustic 
musettes into sounding lyres. 

Modern poets and novelists do not insist that 
all men are equal in passion as they are equal 
in suffering and in death ; but the people of the 
nineteenth century fully believed in such equality. 
George Sand expresses her real feelings in La 
Petite Fadette ; and Pouvillon meant all that he 
said in Les Antibel. The contemporaries of 
Louis XIII. looked askance upon such theories; 
in their opinion the love, like the suffering, of the 
inferior was below the conception of the quality, a 
thing as hard for the noble mind to grasp as the 
invisible movement of life in an atom; to be ignorant 
of the needs, the hopes, the anguish of inferiors 
was one of the first proofs of exalted nobility. 
But the nobles knew that the shepherds of the dra- 
matic stage were gentlemen travestied, and, there- 
fore, they bestowed the interest formerly accorded 
to the heroes of the heroic drama upon the woes 
of the mimic Celadons of the comedy. Love 



I70 The Youth of 

would have become the dramatic pivot had it 
not been for Corneille's plays; d'Urfe's characters 
were " sighing like a furnace " when Corneille took 
command and gave the posts of honour to " the 
manly passions " ; but not even Corneille could 
reach such a point at a bound ; he attained it by 
strenuous effort. He began his literary career by 
writing comedies in verse. Before he produced 
the Cid, between the years 1629 and 1636, he 
wrote six plays ; an inferior serio-comedy, Cli- 
tandre ; or, Innocence Delive7'-ed, and a tragedy, 
Medee. To quote M. Lemaitre : 

We now enter a world which is superficial, because its 
people have but one object in living: their only occupation, 
their only pleasure, their only interest is love; all else, all the 
interests of social life are eliminated. . . . To love. 
. . , To be loved, . . . this is the only earthly object, 
according to the teachings of the drama, and truly, in the 
long run it becomes tiresome! Such a world must be impos- 
sible, because it is artificial; in it hearts are the subjects of 
all the quarrels; men fight for them, lose them, find them; 
they are stolen, they are restored to their owners, they are 
tossed like shuttlecocks through five acts of a play. As they 
'* chassay " to and fro before the reader he loses all sense of 
their identity, and takes one for the other; in the end the 
mind is wearied. Excessive handling exhausts the vitality of 
the subject, and leaves an impression as of something vapid 
and unsavoury. But Corneille was Cornelien even when he 
wrote rhymed comedy — he could not have been anything 
else — and he never would have fallen into rhyme had he not 
wished to make concessions to the prevailing fashion.' 

Even when engaged in the most absorbing of 

' Pierre Corneille Petit de Julleville. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 171 

intrigues his lovers pretend that they are their 
own masters, and that they feel only such senti- 
ments as they have elected to feel. At that early 
day — - when Medee and Clitandre were written — 
the culte of the will had germinated ; and time 
proved that it was predestined to become the chief 
director of Corneille's work. In La Place Roy ale 
Alidor says of Clitandre ^• 

Je veux la liberte dans le milieu des fers, 

II ne faut pas servir d'objet, qui nous possede. 

II ne faut point nouirrir d'amour qui ne nous cede, 

Je le hais s'il me force, et, quand j'aime, je veux 

Que de ma volonte dependent tous mes voeux, 

Que mon feu m'obeisse au lieu de me contraindre, 

Que je puisse, a mon gre, I'enflammer ou I'eteindre, 

Et toujours en etat de disposer de moi, 

Donner quand il me plait et retirer ma foi. 

In Corneille's plays young girls are raised to be- 
lieve that they can love, or cease to love, at will ; 
and their pride is interested. Ambition demands 
that they remain in command of their affections. 
When old Pleirante perceives that his daughter 
CeHdee is fond of Lysandre he lets her know that 
he has divined her secret and that he approves of 
her choice, but Celidee answers proudly : 

" Monsieur, il est tout, vrai, Son legitime ardor 
A tant gagne sur moi que j'en fais de I'estime . . . 
J'aime son entretien, je cheris sa presence; 
Mais cela n'est enfin qu'un peu de complaisance, 
Qu'un mouvement leger qui passe en moins d'un jour, 
' Vos seuls commandements produiront mon amour.' " 

— Galerie du Palace. 

' Pien-e Corneille, Petit de Julleville. 



172 The Youth of 

Another ingenuous daughter answers, in an of- 
fended tone, when her mother intimates that she 
seems to be in love with Alcidon, that she 

" Knoivs that appearances are against her ! But," she 
adds, " my heart has gone only as far as I willed that it 
should go. It is always free; and it holds in reserve a 
sincere regard for everything that my mother prescribes 
for me. . . . My wish is yours, do with me what 
you will." — La Veuve. 

The pubHc approved this language. It com- 
mended people who married their daughters with- 
out consulting their hearts. And who shall say 
that this way was not the one best fitted for their 
times ? Faith added to necessity engenders mir- 
acles, and miracles are what morality demands. 

In the great world, the world of the great and 
the noble, love was mentioned only as Corneille 
regarded it in his plays. Every one was in love, — 
or feio^ned to be in love ; on all hands were heard 
twitterings as of birds in the springtime ; but the 
pretty music ceased when marriage was suggested, 
for no one had thouorht of foundino- a domestic 
hearth on a sentiment as personal and as ephemeral 
as love. It was understood that the collective body 
came first, that the youth — man or maid — belonged 
to the family, not to self. Contrary to our way of 
looking at things, it was considered meet and right 
for the individual to subject himself to a species of 
public discipline in everything relating to the es- 
sential actions of private life ; the demand for the 
public discipline of individuals was based upon the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 173 

interests of the community. This law — or social 
tyranny, if you will — covered marriage, and upon 
occasion Parliament did police duty and enforced 
it. Parliament forbade the aged Mme. de Pibrac 
to marry a seventh time — although her six mar- 
riages had all been accomplished under normal 
conditions — because it was supposed that a seventh 
marriage might entail ridicule. The reason given 
by Parliament when it forbade Mme. de Limoges to 
permit her daughter to marry a very honourable 
man of whom she was fond, and who was supposed 
to be fond of her, was this : that her guardian and 
tutor " did not approve of the marriage." The 
history of this subject of marriage shows us that 
our great grandmothers did not bear malice against 
destiny ; they were truly Corneliennes in their con- 
viction that a decorous control of the will con- 
strained the sentiments of an high-born soul, and 
they married their daughters without scruple, and 
without anxiety, as freely and as carelessly as they 
had married themselves. Religion was always 
close at hand, waiting to staunch the wounds which 
social exigencies and family selfishness made in the 
hearts of the unfortunate lovers. 

The understanding between Corneille and his 
readers was perfect ; all that he did pleased the 
playgoers, and when, as he was searching for 
what we should call " the realistic," he came upon 
the idea that he might tempt the public taste by 
presenting a play with a Spanish setting, his critics 
were well pleased. He wrote the Cid and it was 



174 The Youth of 

an unqualified success ; but its exotic sentiments 
and the generous breadth of its morals excited 
vigorous protestations ; the piece was met by re- 
sistance like that which greeted the appearance of 
Ibsen's Doll's House. 

It is known [said Jules Lemaitre] that despite the fact 
that the popular enthusiasm was prodigious the critics were 
implacable. Perhaps the criticisms were not all inspired by 
base envy of the author. I believe in the good faith of 
the Academy, and to my mind, it seems possible that the 
criticisms of the Academy were not considered either partial 
or unjust by every one in France ; it may be that there were 
many thinkers who shared the opinions of Cardinal de Riche- 
lieu and the majority of the Academy. 

These lines are truth itself ; the Cid was an im- 
moral play because it was the apotheosis of pass- 
ionate love, whose rights it proclaimed at the 
expense of the most imperious duties. There was 
enough in the Cid to shock any social body hold- 
ing firmly fixed opinions adverse to the public 
exhibition of intimate personal feelings ; there were 
such bodies — the Academy was one of them — they 
made their own conditions, and the license of the 
prevailing morals was insignificant to them. The 
national idea of the superior rights of the family 
was well-grounded, and when the Academy re- 
proached Chimene because she was "too sensible 
of the feelings of the lover — too conscious of her 
love . . . too unnatural a daughter " — it did no 
more than echo a large number of voices. 

Until he wrote the Cid Corneille was more exi- 



La Grande Mademoiselle 175 

geant than the Academy. The only thing required 
of lovers by the Academy was that they, the lov- 
ers, should govern their feelings and love, or not 
love, accordine to the commands of their families 
or their notaries. The Academy asked nothing of 
them but to control their actions regardless of 
their hearts ; surely that was indulgence ; beyond 
that there remained but one thing more, — to sup- 
press the mind. 

We do not consider it essential [said Sentiments Sur le 
Cid] to condemn Chimene because she loved her father's mur- 
derer ; her engagement to Rodrigue had preceded the murder, 
and it is not within the power of a person to cease loving at 
will. We blame her because, while she was pursuing Rod- 
rigue, ostensibly to his disadvantage, she was making vows 
and besieging Heaven in his favour ; this was a too evident 
betrayal of her natural obligations in favour of her passion ; it 
was too openly searching for a cloak to cover her wishes, and 
making less of the daughter than of the daughter's power to 
love her lover ; in other words, it was cheapening the natural 
character of the daughter to the advantage of the lover. 

The example was especially pernicious, because 
the genius of the author had rendered it seductive, 
and because the part which Chimene played as- 
sured her of the sympathy of the audience. Cor- 
neille was very sensitive to the criticisms of the 
Academy, and after the Cid appeared something 
more serious than synthetic form was placed under 
the knives of the literary doctors ; either because 
the denunciations of his friends bore fruit, or be- 
cause, in the depths of his heart, he harboured the 



176 The Youth of 

feelings which the unbridled ardour of the Cid had 
aroused in the Academy and in the other honest 
people "who upbraided him, he retreated from the 
field of sentimental romanticism, and turned his 
talents in another direction. . . . Nature's triumph 
over a social convention was never given another 
occasion to display its graces or to celebrate its 
truths under his auspices and the love passion 
was not heard of again until it came forth in 
Horace (Camille), to be very severely dealt with." 
We are led to believe that had Corneille 
met the subject of the Cid fifteen years later, he 
would never have granted Chimene and Rodrigue 
a marriage license.^ Nor is this all. Having re- 
formed, he was as fanatical as the rest of the re- 
formers ; having become Catholic, he was more 
Catholic than the Pope. He disclaimed love, and 
would have none of it ; he affirmed that it was un- 
worthy of a place in tragedy. In his own words, 
written some time later : 

The dignity of tragedy demands for its subject some great 
interest of the State, ... or some passion more manly 
than love; as, for instance, ambition or vengeance. If fear is 
permitted to enter such a work it should be a fear less puerile 
than that inspired by the loss of a mistress. It is proper to 
mingle a little love with the more important elements, because 
love is always very pleasing, and it may serve as a foundation 
for the other interests and passions that I have named. But 
if love is permitted to enter tragedy it must be content to 
take the second rank in the poem, and to leave the first places 
to the capital passions. 

' Jules Lemaitre. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 177 

Having chosen his bone in this high-handed 
fashion, Corneille gnawed at it continually ; he 
could never get enough of it. Love had tri- 
umphed in the Cid, but that day was past ; in Hor- 
ace it struggled for existence ; in Polyeucte it was 
vanquished, though not before it had opposed 
sturdy resistance. It was weak enough in Cinna. 
After the arrival of Po7npee it gave up the struggle, 
though it was heard piteously murmuring at inter- 
vals. When Poinpie appeared the ladies disap- 
peared from the drama as if by magic ; hardly a 
woman worthy of the name could be found in lit- 
erature : a few beings there were draped with the 
time-worn title, but they were as virile as wild 
Indians. 

A little hardness sets so well upon great souls ! 

Nothing could be seen but ambition, blood, thirst 
for power, and Fury, cup-bearer to the God of 
Vengeance. There was no more love-passion, the 
manly passions ramped upon the stage like lions, 
and, with few exceptions, all, male and female, were 
monsters of the Will. 

Long years passed before anything but the Will 
was heard of. After a long reign the " monsters" 
disappeared. But they have reappeared in the lit- 
erature of our century. The worship of the Will, 
which originated with Corneille, was recently re- 
vived by Nietzsche, whose famous " Sur-homme " 
bears a very strong family resemblance to the Cor- 
nelien heroes. "Life," said Nietzsche, "is that 



178 The Youth of 

which ought always to surpass and to exceed it- 
self." Corneille's personages kept all the springs 
of their will well in hand. They intended to suc- 
ceed, to surpass, and to get ahead of themselves if 
the thing was to be done ; and when they were con- 
vinced that to surpass themselves was impossible 
their future looked very dark, and they sold their 
lives at cut prices, — or threw them in for nothing — 
letting them go to any one who would carry them 
away. In the fifth act of the play Horace became 
very anxious to die because, as he expressed it, he 
feared that, after what he had done, he should be 
unable to "surpass himself." 

" Votre Majeste, Sire, a vu mes trois combats; 
II est bien malaise qu'un pareil les seconde, 
Qu'une autre occasion a celle-ci reponde, 
Et que tout mon courage, apres de si grands coups, 
Parvienne a des succes qui n'aillent au dessous; 
Si bien que pour laisser une illustre memoire, 
La mort seule aujourd'hiii peut conserver ma gloire." 

The analogy between the " Sur-homme " and the 
Cornelien heroes does not end here ; logic would 
not permit that ; nothing weakens and enslaves 
the firm and exalted will as effectually as the sen- 
timent of pity, and both Corneille and Nietzsche 
enfranchised their ideal humanity. Corneille makes 
some one assure Horace that there is no great 
merit in exposing himself to death, but that con- 
cession to weakness is of an early period ; the 
advanced man — the man out of the common order 
— is easily recognised by the fact that he does not 



La Grande Mademoiselle 179 

hesitate to bring the greatest sufferings upon the 
beincrs who are dearest to him. 

o 

Combattre un ennemi pour le salut de tous, 
Et contre un inconnu s'exposer seul aux coups, 
D'une simple vertu c'est I'effet ordinaire . . . 
Mais vouloir au public immoler ce qu' on aime, 
S'attacher au combat contre un autre soi-meme . . . 
Une telle vertu n'appartenait qu' a nous. 

The lines which follow were written by Nietzsche, 
and they seem a paraphrase of the discourse of 
Horace : 

To know how to suffer is nothing ; feeble women, even 
slaves, may be past masters in this art. But to stand firm 
against the assaults of the pain of doubt, to withstand the 
weakness of remorse when we inflict torment, — this is to be 
a hero ; this is the height of courage ; in this lies the first 
condition of all grandeur. 

Corneille's contempt for pity was shared by his 
contemporaries, and so were his views of marriage 
as expressed in his first comedies. The seigniors 
whom he met at the Hotel de Rambouillet would 
have blushed to feel compassion. They left the 
womanish weakness of pity to the inferior beings 
of the lower orders. The great had always been 
convinced that elevation in rank raised man above 
the consciousness of the sufferings of beings of 
an inferior order ; and in the day of Corneille 
they were fully persuaded that noblemen ought 
to find higher reasons for justice and for gener- 
osity than the involuntary emotions which we of 
this later day have learned to recognise as symp- 
toms of " nervous disturbance." 



i8o The Youth of 

I am very little sensible of pity [wrote La Rochefoucauld], 
and I would prefer not to feel it at all. Nevertheless there is 
nothing that I would not do for the afflicted, and I believe 
that I ought to do what I can for them — even to expressing 
compassion for their woes, for the wretches are so stupid 
that it does them the greatest good in the world to receive 
sympathy ; but I believe that we ought to confine ourselves to 
expressing pity; we ought to take great care not to feel it ; 
pity is a passion which is good for nothing in a well-made 
soul ; when entertained it weakens the heart, and therefore 
we ought to relegate it to beings who need passions to incite 
them to do things because they are incapable of acting by 
reason. 

The manly characters in Corneille's heroic come- 
dies never lower themselves to the plane of the 
common people, nor to a plane where they can 
think as the people think. Corneille was " of the 
Court " by all his feelings and by all his prejudices, 
and he shared Mademoiselle's belief that there is 
a natural difference between the man of quality 
and the man below the quality, because generous 
virtues are mingled with the blood which runs in 
noble veins, while the blood of the man of lower 
birth is mingled with lower passions. Being a 
true courtier, Corneille believed that above the 
two varieties of the human kind — the quality 
and the lesser people — Providence set the order 
of Princes who are of an essence apart, elect, 
and quasi-divine. 

In Don Sane ho d' Aragon Carlos did his best to 
prove that he was the son of a fisherman. His 
natural splendour gave the lie to his pretence. 



La Grande Mademoiselle i8i 

" Impossible that he could have sprung from blood 
formed by Heaven of nothing but clay." 
Don Lope affirms that it cannot be true. 

Non, le fils d'un pecheur ne parle point ainsi , . . 
Je le soutien, Carlos, vous netes point son fils, 
La justice du ciel ne peut I'avoir permis, 
Les tendresses du sang vous font une imposture, 
Et je demens pour vous la voix de la nature. 

He discovers that Carlos is the son of a King 
of Aragon. His extraordinary merit is explained 
and consistency is satisfied. On the whole Cor- 
neille did nothing but develop the maxims and 
idealise the models offered to his observation on 
all sides ; as much may be said of the plots of his 
great plays. His subjects were suggested by the 
events of the day. Had there been no Mme. de 
Chevreuse and no conspiracies against Richelieu 
there could have been no Cinna. And it is possi- 
ble that there might not have been such a work as 
Polyeude had there been no Jansenism.^ 

Corneille did not understand actuality as we un- 
derstand it. His tragedy is never a report of real 
occurrences, that is evident. But he was besieged, 
encompassed, possessed, by the life around him, 
and it left impressions in his mind which worked 
out and mingled with every subject upon which 
he entered. He was guided by his impressions, — 
though he did not know it, — and by their influence 
he was enabled to find a powerful tragedy in a few 

^ Manual de r histoire de la litt^rature franfaise. F. Brunetiere. 



1 82 The Youth of 

indifferent lines dropped by a mediocre historian, 
or by an inferior narrator of insignificant events. 
His surroundings furnished him with precise rep- 
resentations, made real to his mind by the vague 
abstractions of history. In the forms and condi- 
tions of the present he saw and felt all the past.^ 
His constant contact with the world of his times 
favoured the action of his mind upon the minds of 
his auditors. He exhibited to them their passions, 
their thoughts, their feelings, their different ways 
of looking upon social duty, upon politics, and 
upon the part played, or to be played, by the aris- 
tocracy in the general movement. The people of 
Paris loved the play because it exhibited openly, in 
different, but always favourable lights, everything 
in which they had any interest. In it they saw 
their own life, their aims, their needs, their longing 
to be great and admirable in all things.^ They 
saw depicted afl that they had dreamed of being, 
all that they had wished to be ; and something 
more vital than love of literature animated their 
transports and lighted the fond glances fixed on 
the magic mirror reflecting the ideals they so 
ardently caressed. The people listened to Cor- 
neille's plays and trembled as they now tremble at 
the sound of La Marseillaise. It has been said 
that they did not understand Racine ; if they did 
not, their lack of comprehension was natural. 
Racine was of another ofeneration, and he was 
not in sympathy with his forerunner. Mme. de 

' Corneille, Lanson. ^ Cyrano de Bergerac, E. Rostand. 




RACINE 

FROM A STEEL ENGRAVING 



La Grande Mademoiselle 183 

Sevigne was accused of false judgment in her crit- 
icism of Bejazet^ but she also was of another school. 
She had little sympathy for Racine's heroes. She 
understood Corneille's heroes, and could not listen 
to his verses without the tremor of the heart which 
we all feel when something recalls the generous 
fancies of our youth. The general impression was 
that Corneille was inspired by the image of Mile, 
de Montpensier when he wrote Pulcherie (1672), 
an heroic comedy in which an empress stifles the 
cries of her heart that she may listen to the voice 
of glory. 

The throne lifts the soul above all tenderness. 

It it not impossible that Corneille had sonle such 
thought in his mind. Certainly Mademoiselle was 
a model close at hand. One day when her bold 
poltroon of a father told her, in the course of a 
sharp reproof, that she was compromising her 
house for the pleasure of "playing the heroine," 
she answered haughtily and truthfully : 

" I do not know what it is to be anything but a heroine! I 
am of birth so high that no matter what I might do, I never 
could be anything but great and noble. And they may call 
it what they like, / call it following my inclination and taking 
my own road. I was born to take no other! " 

Given such inclinations, and living in the Louvre, 
where Corneille's plays were constantly enacted by 

* " There are agreeable things in Bejazei, but there is nothing perfectly 
beautiful in it, nothing to carry you away in spite of yourself, none of the 
tirades which make you shiver when you read Corneille. My daughter, 
take good care not to compare Racine to him. Distinguish the difference 
between them " (i6th March, 1672). 



1 84 The Youth of 

Queen Anne's order, Mademoiselle was accustomed 
to regard certain actions as the reverse of common 
and ignoble, and to consider certain other actions 
*' illustrious." 

The justice of super-exalted sentiments was pro- 
claimed by nobility, and they who were disposed 
to closely imitate the examples set by the literary 
leader of the day ran the risk of losing all sense of 
proportions and of substance. Mademoiselle did 
lose that sense, nor was she the only one to do so 
among all the children of quality who were permit- 
ted to abuse their right to see the play. Through 
the imprudent fashion of taking young children to 
the theatre, the honest Corneille, who taught the 
heroism of duty, the poetry of sacrifice, the value of 
strong will and self-control, was not absolutely in- 
nocent of the errors in judgment and in moral sense 
by which the wars of the Fronde were made possi- 
ble. When he attempted to lift the soul of France 
above its being, he vitiated a principle in the un- 
formed national brain. 

Ill 

Mademoiselle had grown tall. She had lost her 
awkward ways ; she was considered pretty — al- 
though the Bourbon type might, at any moment, 
become too pronounced. She had remained sim- 
ple and insignificantly innocent and childish, in a 
world where even the children discussed politics 
and expressed opinions on the latest uprising. Side 
by side with all her infantine pleasures were two 



La Grande Mademoiselle 185 

serious cares which had accompanied her from her 
cradle, one : her marriage ; the other, the honour 
of her house. The two cares were one, as the two 
objects were one, because in that day a princess 
knew her exalted duty and accepted her different 
forms of servitude without a frown, and certainly 
the most painful of all those forms was the marriage 
in which the wife was less than nothing ; a being 
helpless in her inferiority, so situated that she was 
unable to claim any share of the general domestic 
happiness. The noble princesses had consented 
to drink their cup to the dregs because it was part 
of their caste to do so, and many were they who 
went to the altar as Racine's " Iphigenie " went to 
the sacrifice. The idea that woman is a creature 
possessing a claim upon herself, with the right to 
love, to be happy, and to seat herself upon the 
steps of the throne, or even upon the throne, is a 
purely modern conception. The day when that 
mediocre thought first germinated in the brain of 
the noblewoman marked a date in the history of 
royalty, and it may be that no surer sign was given 
to warn the nations of contemporary Europe of the 
decay of the monarchical idea. 

La Grande Mademoiselle had faith in the old 
traditions. She had always been used to the idea 
that life would be full enough when she had ac- 
complished her high destiny and perpetuated the 
noble name borne by her ancestors and she was 
fully satisfied with the idea that her husband should 
see in her nothing but the "granddaughter of 



1 86 The Youth of 

France," and accept her and her princely estates as 
he would accept any of the other gifts directly be- 
stowed on noblemen by Divine Providence. Her 
husband had been ordained her husband from all 
time ; and she was prepared to yield her all to 
him without a murmur. What though he should 
be ugly, gouty, doddering — or a babe in arms, 
"brutal," or an "honest man"? Such details 
were for the lower orders, they were puerile ; un- 
worthy of the attention of a great Princess. He 
would be the ktisband of Mile, de Montpensier, niece 
of Louis XIIL, and that would be enough. But in 
spite of herself she felt a lurking curiosity as to 
who he should be. What was to be his name . . . 
His Majesty, was he to be a king, ''His Highness,'' 
or simply " Monseignetir f " there lay the root of 
the whole matter. 

Of what rank were the wives whose right it was to 
remain seated in the King's presence, . . . and 
on what did they sit, arm-chairs or armless seats ? 

That was the question, the only consideration of 
any importance. 

We should prefer to think that Mademoiselle 
mourned because she was reduced by her condition 
to forget that however princely a marriage may be 
it must entail a husband, but we are the slaves of 
truth, we must take our history as we find it, and 
be the fact pleasing or painful, — here it is : Made- 
moiselle knew that she should marry the first 
princely aspirant to her hand, and she was well 
content to let it be so. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 187 

The first to arouse her imagrlnation was one of 
her mother's ancient lovers, Comte de Soissons, a 
brilliant soldier, but a man of very ordinary in- 
tellect. " M. le Comte " had not only aspired to the 
favour of Anne-Marie's mother, but he had also 
addressed her cousin Marie, Duchesse de Mont- 
pensier, and so lively had been the wooing that 
there had been some talk of an abduction. Then 
Gaston had entered the field and carried off the 
Duchess, and, gnawed by spite and jealous fury, 
Soissons had quarrelled with him. 

Less than a year later the unexpected death of 
Madame brought about a reconciliation between 
the rivals. Monsieur, wifeless, charged with an 
infant daughter, who was the sole heiress to almost 
incalculable wealth, clasped hands with Soissons, 
under circumstances favourable to the brightest 
dreams. Madame's timely death had restored In- 
tact a flattering prospect. M. le Comte again and 
for the third time announced pretensions to the hand 
of a Montpensier, and Gaston smiled approval. He 
considered it all very natural ; given a like occasion, 
he would have followed a like course. 

So, as far back as her youthful memory could 
travel. Mile. Anne-Marie-Louise d'Orleans found 
along her route traces of the assiduous atten- 
tions of the even-then ripe cousin, who had regaled 
her with sugared almonds through the medium 
of a gentleman named Campion, accredited and 
charged with the mission of rendering his master 
pleasing to Mademoiselle, the infant Princess of 



1 88 The Youth of 

the Tuileries. M. le Comte sent Campion to Court 
with sugared almonds, because he, the Comte de 
Soissons, rarely set foot in Paris at any time, and 
at the time which we are now considering a private 
matter of business (an assassination which he and 
Gaston had planned together), had definitely re- 
tired him from Court. 

All this happened about the year 1636. Gaston 
was living in an obscure way, not to say in hiding ; 
for it would have been difhcult to hide so notable 
a personage, — nor would there have been any logic 
in hiding him, after all that had passed, — but he 
was living a sheltered, and, so to speak, a harm- 
less life. He was supposed to be in Blois, but 
he was constantly seen gliding about the Louvre, 
tolerated by the King, who practised his dan- 
cing steps with him, and treated by Richelieu 
with all the contempt due to his character. The 
Cardinal made free with Gaston's rights ; he 
changed and dismissed his servants without con- 
sultinor their master ; and more than one of the 
fine friends of Monsieur learned the way to the 
Bastille. 

At times Richelieu gave Gaston presents, hoping 
to tempt the light-minded Prince to reflect upon 
the advantages attending friendly relations with 
the Court. Richelieu had tried in vain to force 
Gaston to consent to the dissolution of his marriage 
with Marguerite de Lorraine. He had never per- 
mitted Gaston to present his wife at Court, but 
Gaston had always hoped to obtain the permission 



La Grande Mademoiselle 189 

and the anxious lady had remained just outside of 
France awaiting: the sio^nal to enter. She was 
generally supposed to be within call of her 
husband. 

The time has come when justice of a new kind 
must be done to Monsieur, and probably it is the 
only time when a creditable fact will be recorded 
in his history. He stood firm in his determination 
to maintain his marriage. Try as the Cardinal 
might, and by all the means familiar to him from 
habitual use, he could not force Monsieur to relax 
his fidelity to his consort. D'Orleans was virtuous 
on this one point, but his manner of virtue was the 
manner of Gaston ; there are different ways of 
sustaining the marriage vows, and Monsieur's way 
was not praiseworthy. His experience had passed 
as a veil blown away by the wind. His passion for 
intrigue still held sway, he always had at least one 
plot in process of infusion, and his results were 
fatal to his assistants. In the heat of his desire to 
rid himself of the Cardinal, he simulated change of 
heart so well that the Cardinal was deceived. Sus- 
picious at first of the sincerity of Gaston's profes- 
sions, after long and close observation he became 
convinced that the Prince was, in truth, repentant. 
It was at that epoch, when free exercise of an 
undisciplined will was made possible by Richelieu's 
conviction of his own security, that Monsieur laid 
his plan of assassination with de Solssons ; at that 
time there was but opinion In France — de Richelieu 
was a tyrant, there could be no hope of pleasure 



iQo The Youth of 

while he Hved. Let him die, let France hear that 
he was dead, and all the world could be happy and 
free to act, not according to the dogmas of an 
egotist by the grace of God, but by the rule of the 
greatest good to the greatest number. 

The conspirators had found a time and a place 
favourable to their enterprise. It was during the 
siege of Corbie. The King was there attended by 
his Minister. Monsieur and the Count were there ; 
so were the men whom they had engaged to kill 
the Cardinal. Culpable as the two scoundrels had 
always been, when the whole country was in arms 
it was impossible to find a reasonable excuse for 
refusing them commands, so they were at the front 
with all the representative men of the country, and 
they had good reason for supposing that one mur- 
der — a movement calculated to relieve the nation 
— might pass unnoticed in the general noise and 
motion of the siege. The time was ripe ; Mon- 
sieur and Soissons had put their heads together and 
decided that the moment had come to strike the 
blow and rid the country of the Cardinal. 

Their plans were well laid. A council of war 
had been called. De Richelieu was to pass a cer- 
tain staircase on his way to it ; de Soissons was to 
accompany Richelieu and distract his attention ; 
Gaston was to be waiting at the foot of the stairs 
to give the signal to the assassins. But Monsieur 
had not changed since the days of Chalais, and he 
could not control his nerves. He was a slave to 
ungovernable panics. According to his plans the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 191 

part which he had to play was easy. He had 
nothing to do but to give the signal ; all the accom- 
plices were ready ; the assassins were awaiting the 
word ; he himself was at his post ; but when the 
Cardinal passed, haughty and calm, to take his 
place in his carriage, terror seized Monsieur and he 
turned and sprang up the stairway. As he fled 
one of his accomplices, thinking to hold him back, 
seized him by his cloak, and Gaston, rushing for- 
ward, dragged him after him. 

The affrighted Prince and his astonished follower 
reached the first landing with the speed of light- 
ning ; and then, carried away by emotion, Monsieur, 
still dragging his companion, fled into an inner 
room, where he stopped, dazed ; he did not know 
where he was, nor what he was doing, and when he 
tried to speak he babbled incoherent words which 
died in his throat. De Soissons was waiting in the 
courtyard ; he had spoken so calmly that Richelieu 
had passed on unconscious of the unusual excite- 
ment among the courtiers. 

Though the plot had failed, there had been no 
exposure ; but the fact that the accomplices held 
the secret and that they had much to gain from 
the Cardinal by a denunciation of their principals 
made it unsafe for the conspirators to remain in 
Paris ; before the Cardinal's policemen were warned 
they fled. Monsieur to Blois and de Soissons to Se- 
dan. Not long after their flight the story was in 
the mouths of the gossips, and Mademoiselle knew 
that she could not hope for the Cardinal's assist- 



192 The Youth of 

ance in the accomplishment of her marriage ; so 
the child of the Tuileries advanced to maidenhood 
while her ambitious cousin (Soissons) turned grey 
at Sedan. When Anne-Marie-Louise reached her 
fourteenth year the Comte thought that the time 
had come to bring matters to a crisis. He was 
not a coward, and as there was no reason for hypo- 
crisy or secrecy, he boldly joined the enemies of 
his country and invaded France with the armies of 
de Bouillon and de Guise. Arrived in France, he 
charged one of his former mistresses, Mme. de 
Montbazon, to finish the work begun by Campion. 
Mme. de Montbazon lent her best energies to 
the work, and right heartily. 

I took great interest in M. le Comte de Soissons, [wrote 
Mademoiselle] ; his health was failing. The King went to 
Champagne to make war upon him ; and while he was on the 
journey, Mme. de Montbazon — who loved the Count dearly 
and who was dearly loved by him — used to come to see me 
every day, and she spoke of him with much affection; she told 
me that she should feel extreme joy if I would marry him, 
that they would never be lonely or bored at the Hotel de Sois- 
sons were I there; that they would not think of anything but 
to amuse me, that they would give balls in my honour, that we 
should take fine walks, and that the Count would have un- 
paralleled tenderness and respect for me. She told me every- 
thing that would be done to render my condition happy, and 
of all that could be done to make things pleasant for a per- 
sonage of my age. I listened to her with pleasure and I felt 
no aversion for the person of M. le Comte. . . . Aside 
from the difference between my age and his my marriage with 
him would have been feasible. He was a very honest man, 
endowed with grand qualities; and although he was the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 193 

youngest of his house he had been accorded ' with the Queen 
of England. 

Having been unable to acquire the mother, 
de Soissons turned his attention to the dauofhter. 
Mademoiselle recorded : 

M. le Comte sent M. le Comte de Fiesque to Monsieur 
to remind him of the promise that he had made concern- 
ing me, and to remind him that affairs were then in such a 
condition that they might be terminated. M. le Comte de 
Fiesque very humbly begged Monsieur to find it good that 
de Soissons should abduct me, because in that way only could 
the marriage be accomplished. Monsieur would not consent 
to that expedient at all, and so the answer that M. le Comte de 
Fiesque carried back touched M. le Comte very deeply. 

Not long after this episode the Comte de Soissons 
was killed at Marfee (6th July, 1641), and Made- 
moiselle's eyes were opened to the fact that she and 
M. le Comte " had not been created for each 
other." She wrote of his death as follows : 

" I could not keep from weeping when he died, 
and when I went to see Madame his mother at Bag- 
nolet, M. and Mile, de Longuevllle and the whole 
household did nothing but manifest their grief by 
their continual cries." 

Mademoiselle had desired with earnest sincerity 
to become the Comtesse de Soissons ; it is difficult 

' Henriette, third daughter of Henry IV., was " accorded with " or prom- 
ised in betrothal to Comte de Soissons a few months after her birth; the 
Comte was between five and six years old. Marie de Medicis did not con- 
sider the infantile betrothal binding; when she saw fit to marry her daughter 
she bestowed her hand upon Charles I., the King of England (1625). 



194 The Youth of 

to imagine why, — unless, perhaps, because at her age 
girls build air-castles with all sorts of materials. 

M. le Comte had been wept over and buried 
and sentiment had nothing more to do with Made- 
moiselle's dreams of establishment. Her fancy 
hovered over Europe and swooped down upon the 
princes who were bachelors or widowers, and upon 
the married nobles who were in a fair way to be- 
come widowers ; more than once she was seen 
closely following the current reports when some 
princess was taken by sickness ; and she aban- 
doned or developed her projects, according to the 
turn taken by the diseases of the unfortunate ladies. 
The greater number of the hypothetical postulants 
upon whom she successively fixed her mind were 
strangers whom she had never seen, and among 
them were several who had never thought of her, 
and who never did think of her at any time ; but 
she pursued her way with unflagging zeal, permit- 
ting indiscreet advances when she did not encour- 
age them ; she considered herself more or less the 
Queen or the Empress of France, of Spain, or of 
Hungary, as the prospect of the speedy bereavement 
of the incumbents of the different thrones bright- 
ened. La Grande Mademoiselle had not entered 
the world as the daughter of a degenerate with im- 
punity ; there were subjects upon which she was 
incapable of reasoning ; in the ardour of her faith 
in the mystical virtues of the Blood she surpassed 
Corneille. She believed that the designs of princes 
ranked with the designs of God, and that they 



La Grande Mademoiselle 195 

should be regarded as the devout regard the 
mysteries of religion. To quote her own words : 
" The intuitions of the great are like the mysteries 
of the Faith ; it is not for men to fathom them ! 
they ought to revere them ; they ought to know 
that the thoughts of the great are given to their 
possessors for the well-being and for the salvation 
of the country." 

Mademoiselle surpassed the Corneille of Tragedy 
in her disdainful rejection of love ; Corneille was 
content to station love in the rear rank, and he 
placed it far below the manly passions in his classi- 
fication of "the humanities." It will be remem- 
bered that by his listings the "manly passions" 
were Ambition, Vengeance, Pride of Blood, and 
" Glory." Mademoiselle believed that love could 
not exist between married people of rank ; she 
considered it one of the passions of the inferior 
classes. 

Le trone met une ame au dessus des tendresses. 

Pulcherie. 

When we examine the subject we see that it was 
not remarkable that Mademoiselle recognised ille- 
gitimate love, although her own virtue was un- 
questionable. She liked lovers, and accepted the 
idea of love in the abstract ; she repudiated the 
idea of love legalised because she was logical ; she 
thought that married love proclaimed false ideas 
and gave a bad example. If married people loved 
each other and were happy together because of 
their common love, young noble girls would long to 



196 The Youth of 

marry for love and to be happy in marriage because 
of love, and the time would come when there would 
be no true quality, because the nobles would have 
followed their desires or their weaker sentiments 
and formed haphazard unions brought about by 
natural selection. Man or maid would " silence 
the voice of glory in order to listen to the voice of 
love," should the dignity of hierarchical customs be 
brought down to the level of the lower passions. 
So Mademoiselle reasoned, and from her mental 
point of view her reasoning was sound. She was 
strong-minded ; she realised the danger of permit- 
ting the heart to interfere in the marriage of the 
Elect. 

The year 1641 was not ended when Mademoiselle 
appeared in spiritual mourning for a suitor who 
seems to us to have been nothing but a vision, the 
first vision of a series. Anne of Austria had never 
forofotten the Cardinal's cruel rebuke when he 
found Mademoiselle playing at man and wife with 
a child in long clothes. She had tried to console the 
little girl, and her manner had always been m^otherly 
and gentle. " It is true," she had said, " the Cardi- 
nal told the truth ; my son is too small ; you shall 
marry my brother ! " When she had spoken thus 
she had referred to the Cardinal Infant,^ who was in 
Flanders acting as Captain-General of the country 
and commanding the armies of the King of Spain. 

The Prince was Archbishop of Toledo. He had 
not received Holy Orders. In that day it was not 

' Ferdinand, third son of Philip III. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 197 

considered necessary to take orders before entering 
the Episcopate. " They taxed revenues, they dele- 
gated vicars-general for judicial action, and when 
the power of the Church was needed they delegated 
bishops. There were many prelates who were not 
priests." Henri de Lorraine II., Due de Guise 
(born in 16 14), was only fifteen years old when he 
received the Archbishopric of Rheims ; he never 
received Holy Orders. In priestly vestments he 
presented every appearance of the most pronounced 
type of the ecclesiastical hybrid ; he was an ex- 
cellent Catholic, and a gallant and dashing pon- 
tiff-cavalier. His life as layman was far from 
religious. When he was twenty-seven years old 
he met a handsome widow, Mme. de Bossut. He 
married her on the spot without drum or cannon ; 
and then, because some formality had been omitted, 
the marriage was confirmed by the Archbishop of 
Malines. The Church saw no obstacle to the mar- 
riage. Nicolas-Frangois de Lorraine, Bishop of 
Toul, and Cardinal, was another example ; " without 
being engaged in orders " he became " Due de Lor- 
raine" (1634) by the abdication of his brother 
Charles. He had political reasons for marrying 
his cousin " Claude " without delay, but he was 
stopped by an obstacle which did not emanate from 
his bishopric. Claude was his own cousin, and the 
prohibitions of the Church made it necessary for 
him to get a dispensation from Rome. 

Fran9ois visited his cousin and made his pro- 
posals. As a layman he needed a publication of 



198 The Youth of 

his bans, and as a CathoHc, in order to marry his 
cousin, he needed a dispensation from the Pope. 
Therefore he re-assumed the character of Bishop 
and issued a dispensation eUminating his bans, 
then, in the name of the Pope, he issued a dispen- 
sation making it spiritually lawful for him to marry 
his cousin to himself ; that accomplished, he cast 
off the character of Bishop and was married by a 
regularly ordained priest like an ordinary mortal. 
In those days there was no abyss between the 
Church and the world. At most there was only a 
narrow ditch which the great lords crossed and re- 
crossed at will, as caprice or interest moved them. 
In their portraits this species of oscillation, which 
was one of their distinguishing movements, is dis- 
tinctly recorded and made evident even to the 
people of this century. 

In the gallery of the Louvre we see a picture 
due to the brush of the Le Nain brothers, entitled. 
Procession in a Church. That part of the pro- 
cession which is directly in front of the spectator 
is composed of members of the clergy, vested with 
all their churchly ornaments. The superb costumes 
are superbly worn by men of proud and knightly 
bearing. The portraits betray the true characters 
of their originals. These men are courtiers, utterly 
devoid of the collected and meditative tranquil- 
lity found in the legions of the Church. In the 
Le Nain brothers' picture the most notable figures 
are two warlike priests, who stand, like Norse kings, 
at the head of the procession, transfixing us with 



La Grande Mademoiselle 199 

their look of bold assurance. No priests in ordi- 
nary, these, but natural soldiers, ready to die for a 
word or an idea ! Their curled moustachios are 
light as foam ; their beards are trimmed to a point, 
and under the embroidered dalmatica the gallant 
mien of the worldling frets as visibly as a lion in 
its cage. It is impossible to doubt it : these are 
soldiers ; cavaliers who have but assumed the habit ; 
who will take back the doublet and the sword, 
and with them the customs and the thoughts of 
men of war. Whatever their rank in the Church, 
hazard and birth alone have placed them there ; 
and thus are they working out the sentence im- 
posed by the ambition of their families ; giving the 
lie to a calling for which they have neither taste 
nor capacity. The will of a strong man can defeat 
even pre-natal influences, and, knowing it, they 
make no hypocritical attempt to hide their charac- 
ter. They were not meant for priests, and every 
look and every action shows it. 

The Cardinal-Infant, Archbishop of Toledo, was 
only a deacon, so there was nothing extraordinary 
in the thought that he might marry. I cannot say 
that he ever thought of marrying Mademoiselle ; 
I have never found any proof that he entertained 
such a thought ; the only thing absolutely certain 
in the whole affair is that Mademoiselle never 
doubted that he intended, or had intended, to 
marry her. Here is her own account of it, some- 
what abridged and notably incoherent : 

The Cardinal-Infant died of a tertian fever (9th November 



200 The Youth of 

1641), which had not hindered his remaining in the army all 
through the campaign. . . . His malady had not ap- 
peared very dangerous; nevertheless he died a few days after 
he came back from Brussels; which made them say that the 
Spaniards had poisoned him because they were afraid that by 
forming an alliance with France he would render himself 
master of Flanders/ and, in fact, that was his design. The 
Queen told me that after the King died she found in his 
strong-box memoranda showing that my marriage with that 
Prince had been decided upon. She told me nothing but 
that . . . when this loss came upon them the King said 
to the Queen . . . and he said it very rudely — "Your 
brother is dead." That news, so coarsely announced, added 
to her grief . . . and for my own part, when I reflected 
upon my interests I was very deeply grieved; because that 
would have been the most agreeable establishment in the 
world for me, because of the beauty of the country, lying as 
it does so near this country, and because of the way in which 
they live there. As for the qualities of his person, though I 
esteemed him much, that was the least that I thought of. 

The disappearance of the Cardinal-Infant was 
followed by events so tragic and so closely con- 
nected with Mademoiselle's life that her mind was 
distracted from her hunt for a husband. Despite 
her extreme youth, the affair Cinq-Mars con- 
strained her to judge her father, and to the child 
to whom nothing was as dear as honour the revela- 
tion of his treachery was crushing. 

' The Cardinal-Infant had been forced to leave his camp and go to 
Brussels to recover his health. He died in Brussels soon after his arrival, 
more beloved by the French people — so it was said — than was becoming to 
a King of Spain. (See VHistoire de la France sous Louis XIII. A. Bazin.) 



La Grande Mademoiselle 201 

IV 

The death of Cinq-Mars was the denouement 
of a great and tragic passion. Henry d'Effiat, 
Marquis de Cinq-Mars, was described as a hand- 
some youth with soft, caressing eyes, marvellously 
graceful in all his movements.^ 

His mother was ambitious ; she knew that men had 
risen to power by the friendship of kings. Riche- 
lieu's schemes required a thousand complicated ac- 
cessories. So it was decided by the Cardinal and by 
Cinq-Mars's mother to present the child to the King 
and to place him in the royal presence to minister to 
the King's pleasure for an hour, as a beautiful flower 
is given to be cherished for a time, then cast away. 
The King was capricious and childish and, as Rich- 
lieu said, "he must always have his toy" ; but el- 
derly children, like very young children, soon tire of 
their toys and when they tire of them they destroy 
them ; Louis XHI. had broken everything that he 
had played with, and his admiration inspired terror. 
Cinq-Mars was determined that he would not be a 
victim. Though very young, he knew the ways of 
the world and he had formed plans for his future. 
He was fond of the world and fond of pleasure. 
He was a natural lover, always sighing at the feet 
of women. He was brave and he had counted 
upon a military career. The thought of imprison- 
ment in the Chateau of Saint Germain with a crrum- 

o 

' M/moires de Michel de Marolles (Abbe de Villeloin); La Conspiration 
Cinq-Mars (Mile. J. P. Basserie). 



202 The Youth of 

bling invalid whose ennui no one could vanquish 
was appalling ; but after two years of resistance 
he yielded and entered the royal apartment as 
officer nearest to the King. It has been said 
that he lacked energy, but as he resisted two 
whole years before he gave up the struggle, and 
as the will which he opposed was the will of 
Richelieu, it is difficult to believe that he was not 
energetic. 

History tells us that he was very nervous and 
that, although his will was feeble, he was subject to 
fits of anger. In 1638 he was in the King's house- 
hold as Master of the Robes. He was eighteen 
years old. It was his business to select and order 
the King's garments, and the King was wont to re- 
ject whatever the boy selected because it was "too 
elegant." When Cinq-Mars was first seen in the 
King's apartment he was silent and very sad ; the 
King's displeasure cowed him ; the beautiful and 
gentle face and the appealing glance of the soft 
eyes irritated the sickly fancies of the monarch and 
he never noticed or addressed Cinq-Mars when he 
could avoid it. Cinq-Mars hated Saint Germain, 
and, truth to tell, even to an older and graver per- 
son, the lugubrious chateau would have seemed a 
prison. Sick at heart, weak in mind, tortured by 
fleshly ills, Louis XIII., sinking deeper into insigni- 
ficance as the resplendent star of his Prime Minis- 
ter rose, was but sorry company for any one. 

Richelieu was the real ruler of France. Ranke, 
who used his relations with ambassadors as a means 



La Grande Mademoiselle 203 

for increasing his store of personal and political 
data, said : 

Dating our observations from the year 1629, we see a crowd 
of soldiers and other attentive people thronging Richelieu's 
house and even standing in the doors of his apartments. 
When he passes in his litter he is saluted respectfully ; one 
kneels, another presents a petition, a third tries to kiss his 
vestments ; all are happy who succeed in obtaining a glance 
from him. It is as if all the business of the country were al- 
ready in his hands ; he has assumed the highest responsibili- 
ties ever borne by a subject. . . , 

As time went on his success augmented his 
power. He lived in absolute seclusion at Rueil. 
He was difficult of approach, and if an ambassador 
succeeded in gaining admission to his presence it 
was because he had been able to prove that he had 
something to communicate to Richelieu which it 
was of essential interest to the State, or to the 
Cardinal personally, to know. All the national 
business was in his hands. He was the centre of 
all State interests, the King frequently attended his 
councils. If Richelieu visited the King- he was sur- 
rounded by a guard ; he hired his guard himself, 
selecting his men with great care and paying them 
out of his own pocket, so that he might feel that 
he was safe from his enemies even in the Kinof's 
presence. 

The officers of his personal service were numer- 
ous, young and very exalted nobles. His stables 
were in keeping with his importance ; and his house 
was more magnificent and his table better served 



204 The Youth of 

than the Kingf's. When in Paris he Hved in the 
Palais Cardinal (now the Palais Royal) surrounded 
by princely objects, all treasures in themselves ; his 
train was the train of an emperor. The Louvre, 
the King's residence, was a simple palace, but the 
Cardinal's palace, called in Court language the 
" Hotel de Richelieu," was the symbol of the luxury 
and the art of France, toward which the eyes of the 
people of France and of all other lands were turned ; 
In the Hotel de Richelieu there were cabinets where 
the high officials sat in secret discussion, boudoirs for 
the fair ladies, ball-rooms, treasure galleries where 
works of art were lavishly displayed, a chapel, and 
two theatres. The basis of the Cardinal's library 
was the public library of Rochelle, which had been 
seized after the siege. The chapel was one of the 
chief sights of Paris. Everything used in the cere- 
monial of worship was of solid gold, ornamented 
with great diamonds. Among the precious ob- 
jects in use were two church chandeliers,^ all of 
massive gold, enamelled and enriched with two 
thousand five hundred and sixteen diamonds. The 
vases used in the service of the Mass were of fine, 
richly enamelled gold, and in them were set two 
hundred and sixty-two diamonds. The cross, 
which was between twenty and twenty-one inches 
high, bore a figure of Christ of massive gold and 
the crown of thorns and the loin-cloth were studded 
with diamonds. 

The Book of Prayer used by the Cardinal was 

^ Dulaure's Histoire de Paris. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 205 

bound in fine morocco leather ; each side of the cover 
was enwreathed with sprigs of gold. On one side 
of the cover was a golden medallion, on which the 
Cardinal was depicted, like an emperor, holding 
the globe of the world in his hand ; from the four 
corners of the cover angels were descending to 
crown his head with flowers. Beneath the device 
ran the Latin inscription, " CadatT The ceiling of 
the grand gallery of the palace (destroyed under 
Louis XIV.) bore one of Philip de Champagne's 
masterpieces — a picture representing the glorious 
exploits of the Cardinal. One of the picture 
galleries called the *' Gallery of Illustrious Men " 
contained twenty-five full-length portraits of the 
great men of France, chosen according to the 
Cardinal's estimate of greatness. At the foot of 
each portrait was a little " key," or historical repre- 
sentation of the principal acts of the original of the 
portrait, arranged as Fra Angelico and Giotto 
arranged the portraits of Saint Dominick and 
Saint Francois d' Assisi. Richelieu, who was not 
afflicted with false modesty, had placed his own 
portrait among the portraits in his gallery of the 
great men of France. Although he had amassed 
so many monuments of pride, he had passed a 
large portion of his life in relative poverty. He 
had travelled from the humble Episcopate to the 
steps of the throne of France on an income of 
25,000 livres. When he died his income was 
nearly three millions of livres per annum, — the 
civil list of a powerful monarch. He was not an 



2o6 The Youth of 

expert hoarder of riches, Hke Mazarin ; he scat- 
tered money with full hands, while his master, the 
King, netted game-bags in a corner, cooked, or did 
other useful work, or gave himself up to his frugal 
pleasures. 

According to Mme. de Motteville : 

The King found himself reduced to the most miserable of 
earthly lives, without a suite, without a Court, without power, 
and consequently without pleasure and without honour. Thus 
a part of his life passed at Saint Germain, where he lived like 
a private individual ; and while his enemies captured cities 
and won battles, he amused himself by catching birds. That 
Prince was unhappy in all manners, for he had not even the 
comfort of domestic life ; he did not love the Queen at 
all. . . . He was jealous of the grandeur of his Minis- 
ter . . . whom he began to hate as soon as he perceived 
the extreme authority which the Cardinal wielded in the 
kingdom . . . and as he was no happier without him 
than he was with him, he could not be happy at all. 

Cinq-Mars entered the King's service under the 
auspices of the Cardinal. When the King saw the 
new face in his apartment he retired into his dark- 
est humour. 

Cinq-Mars was very patient ; he was attentive and 
modest, but the sound of his voice and the sight of 
his face irritated the sickly monarch. Days passed 
before the King addressed his new Master of the 
Robes. One day he caught the long appealing 
look of the gentle eyes ; he answered it with a 
stare, — frowned, and looked again. That night he 
could not sleep ; he longed for the morning. When 
Cinq-Mars entered the bed-chamber the King drew 



La Grande Mademoiselle 207 

him to his side "and suddenly he loved him vio- 
lently and fatally, as in former times he loved 
young Baradas." 

The courtiers were accustomed to the King's 
fancies, but his passion for Cinq-Mars astonished 
them ; it surpassed all that had preceded it. 

It was an appalling and jealous love ; exacting, 
suspicious, bitter, stormy, and fruitful in tears and 
quarrels. Louis XIII. overwhelmed his favourite 
with tokens of his tenderness ; had it been possible 
he would have chained the boy to his side. When 
Cinq-Mars was away from him he was miserable. 

Cinq-Mars was obliged to assist him in his new 
trade (he was learning to be a carpenter), to stand 
at the bench holding tools and taking measure- 
ments ; and to listen to long harangues on dogs 
and on bird-training. The King and his new 
favourite were seen together constantly, driving the 
foxes to their holes and running in the snowy 
fields catching blackbirds in the King's sweep-net ; 
they hunted with a dozen sportsmen who were said 
to be " low people and very bad company," 

When they returned to the palace the King 
supped ; when he had finished his supper he went 
to bed, and then Cinq-Mars, "fatigued to exasper- 
ation by the puerile duties of the day, cared for 
nothing but to escape from his gloomy prison, and 
to forget the long, yellow face and the interminable 
torrent of hunting stories." Stealing from the 
chateau, he mounted his horse and hurried to Paris. 



2o8 The Youth of 

He passed the night as he pleased and returned to 
the chateau early in the morning, worn out, hag- 
gard, and with nerves unstrung. Although he left 
the chateau after the King retired to his bed, and 
returned from Paris early in the morning, before 
the King awoke, Louis XIII. knew where he had 
been and what he had been doing. Louis em- 
ployed spies who watched and listened. He 
was particularly jealous of Cinq-Mars's young 
friends ; he " made scenes " and reproached Cinq- 
Mars and the tormented boy answered him hotly ; 
then with cries, weeping bitterly, they quarrelled, 
and the King went to Richelieu to complain of 
" M. le Grand." Richelieu was State Confidant, 
and to him the King entrusted the reconciliations. 
In 1639 (27th November) Louis wrote to the Car- 
dinal : 

You will see by the certificate that I send you, in what con- 
dition is the reconciliation that you effected yesterday. When 
you put your hand to an affair it cannot but go well. I give 
you good-day. 

The certificate read as follows : 

We, the undersigned, certify to all to whom these presents 
may come, that we are very glad and well-satisfied with one 
another, and that we have never been in such perfect unison 
as at present. In faith of which we have signed the present 
certificate. 

(signed) Louis ; and by my order : 

(signed) Effiat de Cinq-Mars. 

The laboured reconciliations were not durable ; 



La Grande Mademoiselle 209 

the months which followed the sioriinp- of the cer- 
tificate were one long tempest. The objects of the 
King's bitterest jealousy were young men who 
formed a society called Les messieurs du Marais be- 
cause they met every evening at Mme. de Rohan's 
in the Palais Royal (the King then lived at the 
Louvre). Louis could not be silent ; he exposed 
his spite on all occasions. January 5, 1640, he 
wrote to the Cardinal : 

I am sorry to have to tell you again of the ill-humour of M. 
le Grand. On his return from Rueil he gave me the packet 
which you sent to me, I opened it and read it. Then I said 
to him : 

" Monsieur, the Cardinal informs me that you have mani- 
fested great desire to please me in all things ; nevertheless 
you evince no wish to please me in regard to that which I 
begged the Cardinal to speak of : namely, your laziness." He 
answered that you did speak to him of it, but that he could 
not change his character, and that in that respect he should 
not do any better than he had been in the habit of doing. 
That discourse angered me. I said to him that a man of his 
condition ought to take some steps toward rendering himself 
worthy to command armies (since he had told me that it was 
his intention to lead armies). I told him that laziness was 
contrary to military action. He answered me brusquely that 
he had never had such an intention and that he had never 
pretended to have it. I answered, " Que si ! You have ! " I did 
not wish to go any deeper into the discourse (you know well 
what I mean). I then took up the discourse on laziness. I 
told him that vice renders a man incapable of doing anything 
good, and that he is good for nothing but the society of the 
people of the Marais where he was nourished, — people who 
have given themselves up to pleasure ! I told him that if he 
wishes to continue the life that he is now living among his old 



2IO The Youth of 

friends, he may return to the place whence he came. He 
answered arrogantly that he should be quite ready to do so! 

I answered him : " If I were not wiser than you I know what 
I should answer to that ! " . . . After that I said to him 
that he ought not to speak to me in such fashion. He 
answered after the manner of his usual discourse that at 
present his only duty appeared to be to do good to me and 
to be agreeable to me and that as to such business he could 
get along very well without it ! He said that he would as will- 
ingly be Cinq-Mars as to be M. le Grand ; and that as to 
changing his ways and his manner of life, he could not do it ! 
. . . And so it went ! he pecking at me and I pecking at 
him until we reached the courtyard ; when I said to him that 
as he was in such a humour he would do me pleasure if he 
would refrain from showing himself before me any more. He 
bore witness that he would do that same right willingly! I 
have not seen him since then. 

Precisely as I have told you all that passed, in the pres- 
ence of Gordes. 

Louis. 
Post-Scriptum : 

I have shown Gordes this memorandum before sending it, 
and he has told me that there is nothing in it but the truth, 
exactly as he heard it and saw it pass. 

Cinq-Mars sulked and the King sulked, and as 
the quarrel promised to endure indefinitely, Riche- 
lieu bestirred himself, left his quiet home in Rueil 
and travelled to the house of the King to make 
peace between the ill-assorted pair. 

Peace restored, Louis became joyful ; he could 
not refuse his favourite anything. Cinq-Mars made 
the most of his opportunity. But he could not 
go far ; the Cardinal barred his way. Cinq-Mars 
aspired to the peerage; he aimed to be a duke, to 



La Grande Mademoiselle 211 

marry a princess, and to sit among the King's 
counsellors. Richelieu checked him, eave him 
rude orders, scolded him as he scolded his valet, 
called him an " insolent little fellow," and threatened 
to put him in a place " still lower " than the place 
from which he had raised him.^ One day, when 
Richelieu was berating the favourite, he told him 
that he had appointed him to his office in the 
King's house so that he (Richelieu) might have a 
reliable spy, and that as he had been appointed 
for no other purpose, it would be advisable for him 
to begin to do the work that he was expected 
to do. 

The revelation was a cruel blow to the proud 
and sensitive boy, and in the first moment of his 
anguish he conceived a ferocious hatred. It is 
probable that the knowledge that the Cardinal had 
placed him near the King's person against his will 
and in spite of his long and determined resistance 
solely to the end that he might be degraded to 
an ignoble ofiice was the first cause of the Cinq- 
Mars conspiracy. 

De Richelieu's ministry had never appeared 
more impregnable than it appeared at that time. 
Far and near its policy had been triumphant. 
Speaking of the position France had taken in 
Europe through the guidance of Richelieu, an 
impartial foreigner said : 

What a difference between the French Government as it 
was when Richelieu received it from the kingdom and the 

' jMe'nioires, Monta'at. 



2 12 The Youth of 

state to which his efforts raised it! Before his day the Span- 
iards were in progress on all the frontiers; no longer advancing 
by impetuous attacks, but entering calmly and steadily by 
systematic invasion. Richelieu changed all that, and, led 
by him, France forced the Spaniards beyond the frontier. 

Until the Cardinal assumed command the united 
forces of the Empire, the Catholic League and the 
Spanish armies, held not only the left bank of the 
Rhine but all the land divided by that great cen- 
tral artery of European life. By Richelieu's wise 
policy France regained dominion in Alsace and in 
the greater part of the Rhenish country, the armies 
of France took possession of central Germany, the 
Italian passes, which had been closed to the men 
of France, were opened to them, and large terri- 
tories in upper Italy were seized and placed under 
French control ; and the changes were wrought, 
not by a temporary invasion, but by orderly and 
skilfully planned campaigns. 

The Cardinal's power had been made manifest 
everywhere. His rule had been to the glory of 
France. Among other important results were the 
triumphs of the French navies ; the fleets, having 
proved their strength in the Ligurian Sea, had 
menaced the ports of Spain. The Ligurian Penin- 
sula had been rent asunder by the revolt of two 
large provinces, one of which had arisen proclaim- 
ing its independent rights as a kingdom. There 
was, there had been, no end to Richelieu's diplo- 
matic improvements ; his victories had carried ruin 




MARQUIS DE CINQ MARS 



La Grande Mademoiselle 213 

to the enemy ; the skirmishers of France had ad- 
vanced to a point within two leagues of Madrid. 
The Croquemitaine of France, who held in terror 
both the Court and the canaille, had assured the 
Bourbons of an important place among the empires 
of the world. The day of Spain was past ; the 
day of France was come. 

A great fete marked this period of power and 
glory. 

Richelieu was a man of many ambitions, and 
he aspired to the admiration of all of the popu- 
lation ; he had extended his protecting arms over 
literature and the lettered ; he had founded the 
French Academy ; but he was not content ; he 
was a man of too much independence and of 
too enterprising a mind to leave all the literary 
honours to the doctors of the law or to his medi- 
ums, Corneille and Rotrou, whose lines of work 
he fixed to follow a plan outlined to suit his own 
ideas. Usually, Richelieu's intellectual ambitions 
were quiescent, but at times the pedant, dormant 
in his hard nature, awoke and impelled him to add 
a few personal touches to the work of his agents. 
When under the influence of his afflatus he col- 
laborated with Desmarets, the author of a dramatic 
poem entitled Clovis, and by the united efforts of 
the unique literary team the tragedy Miranie was 
delivered to the world. Its first appearance was a 
Parisian event. None of the King's armies had 
been mounted with such solicitude and prodigality. 
The erand audience-room of the Palais Cardinal 



214 The Youth of 

was buih for Mirame ; it was spaced to hold three 
thousand spectators ; the stage material had been 
ordered from Italy by " Sieur Mazarini," ex-Papal 
Nuncio at Paris. Richelieu himself had chosen 
the costumes and the decorations ; and he in per- 
son directed the rehearsals, and, as he supposed, 
superintended the listing of all the invitations. 
The play was ready for representation early in the 
year (1641). 

First of all there was a general rehearsal for the 
critics, who were represented by the men of letters 
and the comedians. The rehearsal took place be- 
fore the Court and the social world of all Paris. 
The invited guests were seated by the Bishop of 
Chartres and by a president of the Parliament of 
France. Though too new and too fresh in its 
magnificence, the Audience Hall pleased the people 
exceedingly ; when the curtain rose they could 
hardly repress cries of admiration. The stage was 
lined on both sides by splendid palaces and in the 
open space between the abodes of luxury were most 
delicious gardens adorned with grottoes, statues, 
fountains, and grand parterres of flowers descending 
terrace upon terrace to the sea, which lifted its 
waves with an agitation as natural as the move- 
ments of the real tide of a real ocean ; on the broad 
waters passed two great fleets ; one of them ap- 
peared as if two leagues away. Both fleets moved 
calmly on, passing like living things before the 
spectators. 

The same decorations and scenery served the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 215 

five acts of the play ; but the sky was changed in 
each act, when the light faded, when the sun set 
or rose, and when the moon and the stars ap- 
peared to mark the flight of the hours. The play 
was composed according to the accepted formulas 
of the day, and it was neither better nor worse 
than its fellows. In its course the actors fought, 
poisoned each other, died, came to life, and quar- 
relled over a handsome princess ; and while the 
scene-shifters manipulated the somewhat crude in- 
ventions of the stage scenery, and while the actors 
did their utmost to develop the plot to the best ad- 
vantage, the master of the palace acted as chief of 
the Claque and tried by every means in his power 
to arouse the enthusiasm of the audience. He 
stood in the front of his box and, leaning forward 
into space, manifested his pleasure by his looks ; at 
times he called the attention of the people and im- 
posed silence so that the finer passages might be 
heard.' 

At the end of the play a curtain representing 
clouds fell upon the scene, and a golden bridge 
rolled like a tide to the feet of Anne of Austria. 
The Queen arose, crossed the bridge, and found 
herself in a mao-nificent ball-room ; then, with the 
Prince and the Princess, she danced an impetuously 
ardent and swinging figure, and when that dance 
was over, the Bishop of Chartres, in Court dress, 
and baton in hand, like a maitre d' hotel, led the 
way to a fine collation. Later in the year the 

' Fontenelle's Vie de Pierre Corneille, 



2i6 The Youth of 

serviceable Bishop was made Archbishop of Rheims. 
PoHtics interfered with Mirame. The play was 
assailed by difficulties similar to those which met 
Napoleon's Vie de Cdsar under the Second Em- 
pire. The Opposition eagerly seized the occasion 
to annoy "Croquemitaine " ; open protestations were 
circulated to the effect that the play was not worth 
playing. Some, rising above the question of liter- 
ary merit, said that the piece was morally objec- 
tionable because it contained allusions to Anne of 
Austria's episode with Buckingham. Richelieu be- 
came the scapegoat of the hour ; even the King had 
something to say regarding his Minister's literary 
venture. Louis was not gifted with critical dis- 
crimination ; he knew it, and his timid pride and 
his prudence restrained him from launching into 
observations upon subjects with which he was not 
fitted to cope ; but guided by the cherub detailed 
to protect the mentally incompetent, he struck with 
instinctive subtlety at the one vulnerable point in 
the Cardinal's armour and declared that he had 
nothing to say regarding the preciosity of the play, 
but that he had been " shocked by the questionable 
composition of the audience." It relieved the 
King's consciousness of his own inferiority to "pinch 
the Cardinal." He told Monsieur that he had been 
** shocked " when he realised " what species of so- 
ciety" he had been invited to meet. Monsieur, 
seizing the occasion to strike his enemy, answered 
that, to speak " frankly," he also had " been 
shocked " when he perceived " little Saint Amour 



La Grande Mademoiselle 217 

among the Cardinal's guests." The royal brothers 
turned the subject in every light, and the more they 
studied it the darker grew its aspect. They agreed 
in thinking that the King's delicacy had been 
grossly outraged ; they worked upon the fact until 
it assumed the proportions of a personal insult. 
Richelieu, visited by the indignant pair, was galvan- 
ised by the double current of their wrath. He 
knew that Saint Amour had not been in any 
earthly locality by his will ; tact, if not religious 
prejudice, would have forbidden the admission of a 
personage of the doubtful savour of Saint Amour to 
the presence of the King. But Monsieur and the 
King had seen with their own eyes, and as no one 
would have dared to enter the Palais Cardinal unin- 
vited, it was an undisputable fact that some one had 
tampered with the invitations. Richelieu's detec- 
tives were put upon the scent and they discovered 
that an Abbe who " could not refuse a woman any- 
thing" had been entrusted with the invitations- 
list. 

Richelieu could not punish the amiable lady who 
had unconsciously sealed the Abbe's doom ; but 
justice was wrought, and absolute ignorance of 
facts permits us to hope that it fell short of the 
justice meted out to Puylaurens. It was said that 
the Abbe had been sent back to his village. 
Wherever he was "sent," Louis XIII. refused to 
be comforted, and to the end of his days he told 
the people who surrounded him that the Cardinal 
had invited him to his palace to meet Saint Amour. 



2i8 The Youth of 

Richelieu's life was embittered by the incident, 
and to the last he was tormented by a confused 
impression of the fete which he had believed was 
to be the coming glory of his career. But an 
isolated detail could not alter facts, and it was uni- 
versally known that his importance was "of all the 
colours." Mirame had given the people an idea of 
the versatility of Richelieu's grandeur and of the 
composite quality of his power, and M. le Grand 
knew what he might expect should he anger the 
Cardinal. Cinq-Mars was always at the King's 
heels, and he knew the extent of Louis's docility. 

The Cinq-Mars Conspiracy took shape in the 
months which immediately followed the presenta- 
tion of Mirame. As the details of the conspiracy 
may be found in any history, I shall say only this : 
When an enterprise is based upon sentiments like 
the King's passion for his Grand Equerry ^ and the 
general hatred of Richelieu, it is not necessary to 
search for reasonable causes. 

When the first steps in the conspiracy were 
taken Louis XIIL, in his tenderness for Cinq-Mars 
and his bitter jealousy of Richelieu, unconsciously 
played the part of instigator. 

It soothed the wounded pride of the monarch to 
hear his tyrant ridiculed, and he incited his " dear 
friend," the Marquis d'Effiat, to scoff at the Cardi- 
nal. Cinq-Mars and all the others were taken red- 
handed ; doubt was impossible. In the words of 
Mme. de Motteville : " It was one of the most for- 

' Cinq-Mars had been promoted to the position of Grand Equerry, 



La Grande Mademoiselle 219 

midable, and at the same time one of the most ex- 
traordinary plots found in history ; for the King 
was, tacitly, the chief of the conspirators." Mon- 
sieur enthusiastically entered into the plot ; he ran 
to the Queen with the whole story ; he told her the 
names of the conspirators, and urged her to take 
part in the movement. 

" It must be innocent," he insisted ; "if it were 
not the King would not be engaged in it."^ 

Richelieu's peaceful days were over. He was 
restless and suspicious. Suddenly, in June, 1642, 
when Louis XIII. was sick in Narbonne (and 
when Richelieu was sick in Tarascon) M. le Grand 
was arrested and delivered to the Cardinal for the 
crime of high treason. He deserved his fate. 
He had led Monsieur to treat with Spain ; but the 
real cause of his death — if not of his disgrace — 
lay in the fact that he had lost his hold upon the 
King-'s love. 

" The King had ceased to love him," said a con- 
temporary. The end came suddenly and without 
a note of warning. The King, awaking as from a 
dream, remembered all the services that Richelieu 
had rendered unto France. He was so grateful 
that he hastened to Tarascon and begged Riche- 
lieu's pardon for having wished " to lose him," in 
other words, for having wished to accomplish his 
fall. The King was ashamed, and despite his 
sickness he ordered his bearers to carry him into 
Richelieu's bed-chamber where the two Gentlemen 

' Motteville, 



220 The Youth of 

passed several hours together, each in his own bed, 
effectine a reconciUation. 

But their hearts were not in their words ; wrongs 
like those in question between the Cardinal and the 
King cannot be forgotten.^ The King had abet- 
ted a conspiracy against the Cardinal's life, and 
had the Cardinal been inclined to forget it, the 
King's weak self-reproach would have kept it in 
the mind of his contemplated victim. Louis could 
not refrain from harking back to his sin ; he humili- 
ated himself, he begged the Cardinal to forgive 
him ; he gave up everything, including the amiable 
young criminal who, in Scriptural language, had 
lain in his bosom and been to him as a daughter. 
The judgment of the moralist is disarmed by the 
fact that Louis was, and always had been, a phy- 
sical wreck, morally handicapped by the essence 
of his being. He had loved Cinq-Mars with un- 
reasoning passion ; he was forced by circumstances 
to sacrifice him ; but we need not pity him ; there 
was much of the monster in him, and before the 
head of Cinq-Mars fell, all the King's love for his 
victim had passed away. 

Louis XIII. was of all the sovereigns of France 
the one most notably devoted to the public in- 
terest ; in crises his self-sacrifice resembled the 
heroism of the martyr ; but the defects of his qual- 
ities were of such a character that he would have 
been incomprehensible had he not been sick in 
body and in mind. 

• Motteville. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 221 

During the crisis which followed the exposure of 
Cinq-Mars's conspiracy Monsieur surpassed himself ; 
he was alternately trembler, liar, sniveller, and in- 
former ; his behaviour was so abject that the echoes 
of his shame reverberated throughout France and, 
penetrating the walls of the Tuileries, reached the 
ears of his daughter. Monsieur shocked Made- 
moiselle's theological conception of Princes of the 
Blood ; she could not understand how a creature 
partaking of the nature of the Deity could be so 
essentially contemptible ; she was crushed by the 
enigma presented by her father. 

The close of the reign resembled the dramatic 
tragedies in which the chief characters die in the 
fifth act ; all the principal personages departed this 
life within a period of a few months. Marie de 
Medicis was the first to go. She died at Cologne 
3d July, 1642, not, as was reported, in a garret, 
or in a hovel, but in a house in which Rubens 
had lived. If we may judge by the names 
of her legatees, she died surrounded by at least 
eighty servants. It is true that she owed debts to 
the tradesmen who furnished her household with 
the necessaries of life, and it is true that her peo- 
ple had advanced money when their living expenses 
required such advances ; but the two facts prove no 
more than that royal households in which there is 
no order closely resemble the disorderly households 
of the ordinary classes. People of respectability in 
our own midst are now living regardless of system, 
devoid of economy, and indebted to their tradesmen. 



222 The Youth of 

as the household of Marie de Medicis lived in the 
seventeenth century. To the day of her death the 
aged Queen retained possession of silver dishes of all 
kinds, and had her situation justified the rumours of 
extreme poverty which have been circulated since 
then she would have pawned them or sold them. 
We may be permitted to trust that Marie de Medicis 
did not end her days tormented by material neces- 
sities. She died just at the time when she had 
begun to resort to expedients. The old and cor- 
pulent sovereign had lived an agitated life ; her 
chief foes were of her own temperament. She was 
the victim of paroxysmal wrath and it was generally 
known that she had made at least one determined 
though unfruitful attempt to whip her husband, the 
heroic Henry IV., Conqueror of Paris. Her life 
had not been of a character to inspire the love of 
the French people, and when she died no one re- 
gretted her. Had not the Court been forced by the 
prevailing etiquette to assume mourning according 
to the barbarous and complicated rites of the ancient 
monarchy, her death would have passed unperceived. 
The customs of the old regimen obliged Mademoi- 
selle to remain in a darkened room, surrounded by 
such draperies as were considered essential to the 
manifestation of royal grief. The world mourned 
for the handsome boy who had been forced to enter 
the King's house, and to act as the King's favourite 
against his will, to die upon the scaffold. Mon- 
sieur was despised for his part in Cinq-Mars's death. 
Mademoiselle was shunned because she was her 



La Grande Mademoiselle 223 

father's daughter and her obligatory mourning was 
a convenient veil. Her own record of the death 
of the Queen is a frankly sorrowful statement of 
her appreciation of the facts in the case, and of her 
knowledgfe of her father's ofuilt : 

I observed the retreat which my mourning imposed upon 
me with all possible regularity and rigour. If any one had 
come to see me it would not have been difficult for me to 
refuse to receive them ; however, my case was the case 
of all who are undergoing misfortune ; no one called for 
me. 

Three months after the conspiracy against de 
Richelieu was exposed, Cinq-Mars was beheaded 
(i2th September), and the Lyonnais, who had as- 
sembled in the golden mists of the season of the 
vintage to see him die, cried out against his death 
and said that it was "a sin against the earth to take 
the light from his gentle eyes." De Thou, Cinq- 
Mars's friend, was beheaded also. The victims faced 
death like tried soldiers ; their attitude as they halted 
upon the confines of eternity elicited the commen- 
dation of the people. The fact that the people 
called their manner of leaving the world "beautiful 
and admirable " proves that simplicity in man's con- 
duct, as in literature and in horticultural architec- 
ture, was out of date. 

When the condemned were passing out of the 
tribunal they met the judges who had but just pro- 
nounced their sentence. Both Cinq-Mars and de 
Thou "embraced the judges and offered them fine 
compliments." 



224 The Youth of 

The people of Lyons — civilians and soldiers — 
were massed around the Court House and in the 
neighbourhood. Cinq-Mars and de Thou bowed 
low to them all, then mounted into the tumbrel, 
with faces illumined by spiritual exaltation. In 
the tumbrel they joyfully embraced and crying ''Au 
revoir^'' promised to meet in Paradise. They sal- 
uted the multitude like conquerors. De Thou 
clapped his hands when he saw the scaffold ; Cinq- 
Mars ascended first ; he turned, took one step for- 
ward, and stopped short ; his eyes rested fondly 
upon the people ; then with a bright smile he sal- 
uted them ; after they covered his head he stood 
for an instant poised as if to spring from earth to 
heaven, one foot advanced, his hand upon his side. 
His wide, pathetic glance embraced the multitude, 
then calmly and without fear, again firmly pacing 
the scaffold, he went forward to the block. 

At the present time it is the fashion to die with 
less ostentation, but revolutions in taste ought 
not to prevent our doing justice to the victims of 
the Cinq-Mars Conspiracy. They were heroically 
brave to the last, and the people could not forget 
them. Mademoiselle's grief was fostered by the 
general sympathy for the unfortunate boy who had 
paid so dearly for his familiarity with the King. 
As all her feelings were recorded by her own hand, 
we are in possession of her opinions on the sub- 
jects which were of interest in her day. Of the 
matter of Cinq-Mars and de Thou she said : 

I regretted it deeply, because of my consideration for them, 



La Grande Mademoiselle 225 

and because, unfortunately, Monsieur was involved in the 
affair through which they perished. He was so involved that 
it was even believed that the single deposition made by him 
was the thing which weighed most heavily upon them and 
caused their death. The memory of it renews my grief so 
that I cannot say any more. 

Mademoiselle was ardess enough to believe that 
her father would be sorrowful and embarrassed 
when he returned. 

She did not know him. 

In the winter after Cinq-Mars died, Gaston re- 
turned to the Luxembourg radiant with roguish 
smiles ; he was delighted to be in Paris. 

He came to my house, [reported Mademoiselle,] he supped 
at my house, where there were twenty-four violins. He 
was as gay as if Messieurs Cinq-Mars and de Thou had not 
been left by the roadside, I avow that I could not see him 
without thinking of them, and that through all my joy of see- 
ing him again I felt that his joy gave me grief. 

Not long after she thus recorded her impressions 
she found, to her cost, how little reliance she could 
place upon her father, and all her filial illusions 
vanished. 

Richelieu was the next to disappear from the 
scene. He had long been sick ; his body was para- 
lysed and putrid with abscesses and with ulcers. 
Master and Man, Richelieu and Louis were in- 
tently watching to see which should be the first 
to die. Each one of them was forming projects 
for a time when, freed from the arbitration of the 
other, he should be in a position to act his inde- 
pendent will and to turn the remnant of his fleeting 



226 The Youth of 

life to pleasurable profit. In that, his final state, 
the Cardinal offered the people of France a last 
and supreme spectacle, and of all the dramas that 
he had shown them, it was the most oriorinal and 
the most impressive. The day after the execution 
of Cinq-Mars, Richelieu, who had remained to the 
last hour in Lyons, entered his portable room and 
set out for Paris. His journey covered a period of 
six weeks, and the people who ran to the highway 
from all directions to see him pass were well re- 
galed. In those last days when the Cardinal trav- 
elled he was carried in procession. First of all 
were heavy wains hauling the material of an in- 
clined plane ; at a short distance behind the wains 
followed a small army corps escorting the Cardinal's 
travelling room ; the room was always transported 
by twenty-four men of the Cardinal's body-guard, 
who marched throuofh sun and rain with heads un- 
covered. In the portable room were three pieces 
of furniture, a chair, a table, and a splendid bed — 
and on the bed lay a sick man ! — better still for the 
sightseers, a sick Cardinal ! The crowds pressed 
close to the roadside. They who were masters of 
the art of death looked on disease with curiosity ; 
they knew that they could lop off the heads of the 
fine lords whose grandeur embittered the lives of 
the peasants and the workmen as easily as they 
could beat down nuts from trees ; yet there lay the 
real King of France in his doll's house, and he 
could neither live nor die, — that was droll ! 



La Grande Mademoiselle 227 

The chair in the little room stood ready for the 
visitors who paid their respects to the sick man 
when the travellers halted. 

The table was carried for the convenience of the 
secretary, who wrote upon it, sorted his papers, 
dusted his ink with scented gold-powder, and 
pasted great wafers over the silken floss and the 
English ribands which tied his private correspond- 
ence. 

Richelieu, as he travelled, dictated army orders 
and diplomatic despatches. When the little pro- 
cession arrived at a halting-place, everything was 
ready for its reception ; the house in which the 
Cardinal was to lodge had been prepared, the en- 
tire floor to be occupied by him had been gutted 
so that no inner partitions could interfere with his 
progress. The wains stopped, the inclined plane 
was set in position against the side of the house, 
and the heavy machine bearing the sick-room was 
rolled slowly into the breach and engulfed without 
a tremor. 

When it was possible the room was drawn 
aboard a boat and the Cardinal was transported by 
water ; in that case when he reached home he was 
disembarked opposite his palace near the Port au 
Foin, and borne through the crowd of people, who 
struggled and crushed each other so that they 
might know how a Cardinal-Minister looked, 
lying in his bed and entering Paris, dying, yet 
triumphant, after he had vanquished all his 
enemies. 



228 The Youth of 

Richelieu saw all that passed ; his perceptions 
were as keen and his judgment was as just as in the 
days of his vigorous manhood. Entering Paris in 
his bed on his return from Lyons, he saw among 
the prostrate courtiers of his own party a man who 
had been compromised by the conspiracy, and then 
and there he summoned him from his knees and 
ordered him to present himself at the palace and 
give an account of his actions. Richelieu's word 
was law ; no one questioned it. The weeks which 
followed the return from Lyons were tedious. 
After the exposure of the conspiracy the Cardinal 
suspected every one, the King included. His tired 
eyes searched the corners of the King's bed-cham- 
ber for assassins. He strove to force the King to 
dismiss some of the officers of his guard, but at 
that Louis revolted. 

After violent discussions and long recriminative 
dualogues the Cardinal resorted to heroic means. 
He shut himself up in his palace, refused to receive 
the King's ambassadors, and threatened to send in 
his resignation. Then the King yielded, and peace 
was made. 

The two moribunds were together when the pre- 
cautions for the national safety were taken against 
Gaston d'Orleans. In his declaration Louis told 
the deputies that he had forgiven his brother five 
separate and distinct times, and that he should for- 
give him once more and once only. The declara- 
tion made it plain that the King was firm in his 
determination to protect himself against his brother. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 229 

Gaston was to be stripped of all power and to be 
deprived of the government of Auvergne ; his 
gendarmerie and his light cavalry were to be 
suppressed. The King made the declaration to 
Mathieu Mole, December i, 1642. That same 
day the Cardinal passed a desperate crisis, and it 
was known that he must die. 

He prepared for death with the firmness befit- 
ting a man of his calibre. When his confessor 
asked him if he had forgiven his enemies, he an- 
swered that he had " no enemies save the enemies 
of the state." ^ There was some truth in the an- 
swer, and in that truth lay his title to glory. At 
home or abroad, in France or in foreign lands, 
Richelieu received the first force of every blow 
aimed at France. He was the Obstacle, and all 
hostility used him as a mark. He was the shield 
as well as the sword of the State. His policy was 
governed by two immutable ideas : i. His own will 
by the will of the King ; 2. France. His object was 
to subject all individual wills to the supreme royal 
will, and to develop French influence throughout 
Europe. We have seen the position which France 
had taken under his direction ; he had accomplished 
work fully as important in the State. " The idea 
of monarchical power was akin to a religious dogma," 
said Ranke, " and he who rejected the idea ex- 
pected to be pursued with the same rigour, and with 
nearly the same formalities, with which national just- 
ice pursued the heretic. The time for an absolute 

^ Montglat. 



230 The Youth of 

monarchy was ripe. Louis XIV. might come ; he 
would find his bed ready. 

RicheHeu gave up the ghost December 4, 1642. 
The news was immediately carried to the King, 
who received it with the comment, " A great poli- 
tician is dead." 

In France the feeling of relief was general. No 
one doubted that the Cardinal's death would change 
everything. The exiles expected to be recalled ; 
the prisoners expected to be set free ; the Opposi- 
tion looked forward to taking the reins of State, 
and the great, who in spite of their greatness were 
probably more or less badly fed, dreamed of an 
Abbey of Theleme. The mass of Frenchmen loved 
change for the sake of novelty. 

The Parisians had hoped for the spectacle of a 
fine funeral, and they were not disappointed. Riche- 
lieu's body lay in state in its Cardinal's robes, and 
so many people visited him that the procession con- 
sumed one whole day and night passing his bier. 
The parade lasted nearly a week. The burial took 
place the thirteenth day of December. It was a 
public triumph. The funeral car, drawn by six 
horses, was considered remarkable. But the changes 
hoped for did not arrive. La Grande Mademoiselle 
was the first to recogfnise the fact that Louis XIII. 
had given the kingdom false hopes. It had been 
supposed that the Cardinal's demise would give 
the King power to make the people happy. The 
Cardinal was dead, and there had been no change. 
Despite all that Gaston had done, Mademoiselle 



La Grande Mademoiselle 231 

loved him ; she could not separate him from her 
idea of the glory of her house. She noted in her 
memoirs the visit made to the Louvre in his behalf : 

As soon as I knew that Richelieu was dead I went to the 
King to beg him to show some kindness to Monsieur. I 
thought that I had taken a very favourable occasion for mov- 
ing him to pity, but he refused to do what I asked him, and 
the next day he went to the palace to register the declaration 
against Monsieur (as the subject of it is known I need not 
mention it or explain it here). When he entered Parliament I 
wished to throw myself at his feet; I wished to beg of him 
not to go to that extremity against Monsieur; but some one 
had warned him of my intention and he sent word to me for- 
bidding me to appear. Nothing could make him swerve from 
his injurious designs. 

The 4th December, after Mademoiselle made 
her unsuccessful visit, Louis XIII. summoned Maza- 
rin to finish the work that Richelieu had begun. 

The 5th December Louis sent out a circular 
letter announcing the death of Richelieu ; he cut 
short the rumours of a political crisis by stating 
that he was resolved to maintain all the establish- 
ments by him decreed in Council with the late 
Prime Minister, and he further stated that to ad- 
vance the foreign affairs of France and also to 
advance the internal interests of the State, — as he 
had always advanced them, — he should maintain the 
existent national policy. 

The riches amassed by the Cardinal passed into 
the hands of his heirs, and the King supplemented 
the legacies by the distribution of a few official 
appointments. Richelieu was gone from earth, but 



232 The Youth of 

his spirit still governed France. " All the Cardi- 
nal's evils are right here ! " cried Mademoiselle ; 
"when he went, they remained." 

Montglat said that they " found it difficult to an- 
nounce the Cardinal's death. No one was willing 
to take the first step. They spoke in whispers. It 
was as if they were afraid that his soul would come 
back to punish them for saying that he could die." 
It was said that " even the King had so respected 
the Cardinal when he was alive, that he feared him 
when he was dead." 

Under such conditions it was difficult to make 
a change of any kind ; nevertheless, after weeks 
had passed — when the King had accustomed him- 
self to independent action — a few changes came 
about gradually and stealthily, one by one. 

The thirteenth day of January, 1643, Monsieur 
was given permission to call at Saint Germain 
and pay his respects to the King. The 19th, Bas- 
sompierre and two other lords emerged from the 
Bastille. 

In February the Vendomes returned from exile. 
Old Mme. de Guise also took the road to Paris, 
and when she arrived her granddaughter, La 
Grande Mademoiselle, received her with open 
arms, and gave her a ball and a comedy, and colla- 
tions composed of confitures, and fruits trimmed 
with Eng-lish ribands ; and when the ball was over 
and the guests were departing in the grey fog of 
early morning, old Madame and young Mademoi- 
selle laid their light heads upon the same pillow 



La Grande Mademoiselle 233 

and dreamed that Cardinals were always dying and 
exiles joyfully returning to their own. 

As time went on the King's clemency increased 
and he issued pardons freely. The reason was too 
plain to every one ; the end was at hand. Paris had 
acquired a taste for her kindly sovereign. Louis 
knew that he was nearing the tideless sea, — he 
spoke constantly of his past ; he exhibited his 
skeleton limbs covered with great white scars to 
his family and his familiar friends ; he told the 
story of his wrongs. He told how he had been 
brought to the state that he was in by his " execu- 
tioners of doctors" and by "the tyranny of the 
Cardinal," He said that the Cardinal had never 
permitted him to do things as he had wished to do 
them, and that he had compelled him to do things 
which had been repugnant to him, so that at last 
even he "whom Heaven had endowed with all the 
endurances," had succumbed under the load that 
had been heaped upon him. His friends listened 
and were silent. 

To the last Louis XHI. was faithful to the sac- 
raments and to France. He performed all his 
secular duties. When he lay upon his death-bed he 
summoned his deputies so that they might hear 
him read the declaration bestowing the title of 
Regent upon Anne of Austria and delivering the 
actual power of the Crown into the hands of a 
prospective Council duly nominated. 

Louis XHI. had put his house In order: he had 
nothing more to do on earth. His sickness was 



234 The Youth of 

long and tedious, and attended by all that makes 
death desirable ; by cruel pains, by distressful 
nausea, and by all the torments of a death by inches. 
The unhappy man was long in dying ; now rallying, 
now sinking, with fluctuations which deranged the 
intriorues of the Court and ao-itated Saint Germain. 

The King lay in the new chateau (the one built 
by his father) ; nothing remains of it but the " pa- 
vilion Henri IV. Anne of Austria lived with the 
Court in the old chateau (the one familiar to all 
Parisians of the present day). 

On " good days " the arrangement afforded the 
sufferer relative repose ; but on " bad days," when 
he approached a crisis, the etiquette of the Court 
was torment. The courtiers hurried over to the 
new chateau to witness the death-agony. They 
crowded the sick-room and whispered with the 
celebrities who travelled daily from Paris to Saint 
Germain to visit the dying King. In the court- 
yard of the chateau the travellers' horses neighed 
and pawed the ground. Confused sounds and 
tormenting light entered by the windows ; the air 
of the room was stifling and Louis begged his 
guests, in the name of mercy, to withdraw from his 
bed and let him breathe. 

The crowds assembled in the courtyard hissed 
or applauded as the politicians entered or drove 
away. On the highway before the chateau the idle 
people stood waiting to receive the last sigh of the 
King, to be in at the death, or to make merry at 
the expense of celebrated men. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 235 

While the masters visited the dying King the 
coachmen, footmen, on-hangers, and other tributa- 
ries sat upon the carriage boxes, declared their 
politics, and issued their manifestos, and their voices 
rose above the neig-hinorof the horses and ascended 
to the sick-room. When the tantalising periodi- 
cally recurrent crises which kept the Court and 
country on foot were past, the celebrities and men of 
Parliament, with many of the courtiers, fled to Paris, 
where they forgot the sights and the sounds of the 
sick-room in the perfumed air of the Parisian salons. 

Mademoiselle wrote of that time : " There never 
were as many balls as there were that year ; and I 
went to them all." 

The final crisis came the thirteenth day of May. 
Immediately after the King gave up the ghost, the 
Queen and all the Court retired from the death- 
chamber and made ready to depart from Saint 
Germain early in the morning. The moving was 
like breaking camp. At daybreak long files of 
baggage wagons laden with furniture and with 
luggage began to descend the hill of Saint Ger- 
main, and soon afterward crowded chariots, drawn 
by six horses, and groups of cavaliers, joined the 
lumbering wains. The suppressed droning of 
many voices accompanied the procession. At 
eleven o'clock silence fell upon the long, writhing 
line, and an army corps surrounding the royal 
mourners passed, escorted by the Marshals of 
France, dukes and peers, and the gentlemen of the 
Court, — all mounted. 



236 La Grande Mademoiselle 

The last of the battalions filed by the van of the 
procession, and the chariots and the wains moved 
on, mingling with the servitors and men of all 
trades, who in that day followed in the train of all 
the orreat. 



Saint Germain was vacant. The last errand 
boy vanished, the murmur of the moving throng 
died in the distance ; the shroud of silence wrapped 
the new chateau, and the curtain fell upon the 
fifth act of the reiofn of Louis XIII. There re- 
mained upon the stage only a corpse, light as a 
plume, watched by a lieutenant and his guard. 



CHAPTER IV 

The Regency — The Romance of Anne of Austria and Mazarin — Gas- 
ton's Second Wife. — II. Mademoiselle's New Marriage Projects. — 
III. Mademoiselle Would Be a Carmelite Nun — The Catholic Re- 
naissance under Louis XIII. and the Regency. — IV. Women Enter 
Politics. The Rivalry of the Two Junior Branches of the House of 
France — Continuation of the Royal Romance. 



THE day after the death of Louis XHI. Paris 
was in a tumult. The people were on duty, 
awaiting their young King, Louis XIV., a boy less 
than five years old. 

The country had been notified that the King 
would enter Paris by the Chemin du Roule and 
the Faubourg Saint Honore. Some of the people 
had massed in the streets through which the proces- 
sion was to pass ; the others were hurrying forward 
toward the bridge of Neuilly. " Never did so many 
coaches and so many people come out of Paris," 
said Olivier d'Ormesson, who, with his family, spent 
the day at a window in the Faubourg Saint Honore, 
watching to see who would follow and who would 
not follow in the train of Anne of Austria. 

Ormesson and his friends were close observers, 
who drew conclusions from the general behaviour ; 
they believed that they could read the fate of the 

237 



238 The Youth of 

country in the faces of the courtiers. France 
hoped that the Queen would give the nation the 
change of government which had been vainly 
looked for when Richelieu died. 

Anne of Austria was a determined, self-contained 
woman, an enigma to the world. No one could 
read her thoughts, but the courtiers were sure of 
one thing : she would have no prime minister. 
She had suffered too deeply from the tyranny of 
Richelieu. She would keep her hands free ! There 
was enough in that thought to assure to the Queen 
the sympathy of the people, and to arouse all the 
ambitious hopes of the nobility. 

The Parisian flood met the royal cortege at 
Nanterre and, turning, accompanied it and hin- 
dered its progress. " From Nanterre to the gates 
of the city the country was full of wains and 
chariots," wrote Mme. de Mottevllle, "and nothing 
was heard but plaudits and benedictions." When 
the royal mourners surrounded by the multitude 
entered the Chemin du Roule the first official ad- 
dress was delivered by the Provost of the Mer- 
chants. The Regent answered briefly that she 
should instruct her son " in the benevolence which he 
ought to show to his subjects."^ The applause was 
deafening. The cortege advanced so slowly that it 
was six o'clock in the evening when Anne of Austria 
ascended the staircase of the Louvre, saying that 
she could endure no more, and that she must defer 
the reception of condolences until the following day. 

^ Registres de V Hotel de Ville (Collection Danjou). 



La Grande Mademoiselle 239 

Saturday, the i6th, was devoted to hearing ad- 
dresses and to receiving manifestations of rever- 
ence. The following Monday the Queen led her 
son to Parliament, where, contrary to the intention 
expressed in the last will and testament of Louis 
XIII., she, Anne of Austria, was declared Regent 
"with full, entire, and absolute authority." 

The evening of that memorable day a radiant 
throng filled the stifling apartments of the Louvre. 
The great considered themselves masters of France. 
Some of the courtiers were gossiping in a corner ; 
all were happy. Suddenly a rumour, first whis- 
pered, then spoken aloud, ran through the rooms, 
Mazarin had been rnade Chief of Council ! The 
Queen had appointed him immediately after she 
returned to her palace from Parliam.ent / 

The courtiers exchanged significant glances. 
Some were astounded, others found it difficult to 
repress their smiles. The great had helped Anne 
of Austria to seize authority because they had sup- 
posed that she would be incapable of using it. Now 
that it was too late for them to protect themselves 
she had come forth with the energy and the initia- 
tive of a strong woman. In reality, though possessed 
of reticence, she was a weak woman, acting under 
a strong influence, but that fact was not evident. 

The Queen-mother was forty-one years old. 
Her hair was beautiful ; her eyes were beautiful ; 
she had beautiful hands, a majestic mien, and natu- 
ral wit. Her education had been as summary as 
Mademoiselle's ; she knew how to read and how to 



240 The Youth of 

write. She had never opened a book ; when she 
first appeared in Council she was a miracle of igno- 
rance. She had always been conversant with the 
politics of France because her natural love of in- 
trigue had taught her many things concerning 
many people. She had learned the lessons of life 
and the world from the plays presented at the 
theatre, and from the witty and erudite frequenters 
of the salons. She was enamoured of intellect, she 
delighted in eloquence, she was a serious woman 
and a devoted mother. While Louis XIII. lived 
she was considered amiable and indulgent to the 
•failings of "low people," because her indifference 
made her appear complaisant. As soon as she as- 
sumed the Regency her manner changed and her 
real nature came to the surface. She astonished 
her deputies by the breathless resistance which she 
opposed to any hint of a suggestion adverse to her 
mandates. After the royal scream first startled 
Parliament there was hardly a man of the French 
State who did not shrink at sight of the Regent's 
fair flushed face and the determined glitter of her 
eye. Anne of Austria was acting under guidance ; 
the delicate hand of the woman lay under the firm 
hand of a master, and her lover's will, not the judg- 
ment of the deputies, was her law. 

The people had received false impressions of the 
character of the Queen ; some had judged her too 
favourably (Mme. de Motteville considered her 
beautiful) ; others — Retz among them — failed to 
do her justice. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 241 

Anne of Austria was neither a stupid woman 
nor a great Queen, although she, was called both 
"great" and " foolish." She was born a Spaniard, 
and in thought and in feeling she was a Spaniard to 
the end of her life. Like all her race, she was 
imaginative ; she indulged in dreams and erected 
altars to her ideals. Her life had betrayed her 
illusions, therefore she longed for vengeance ; and 
as she was romantic, her vengeance took a senti- 
mental form. A study of her nature, as furnished 
by the histories of her early years, makes her after- 
life and her administration of the Regency compre- 
hensible. Despite the latitude of her morals she 
exhibited piety so detailed and so persistent that 
the Parisians were displeased ; one of her friends 
commented upon it sharply. " She partakes of the 
communion too often, she reveres the relics of the 
saints, she is devoted to the Virgin, and she offers 
the presents and the novenas which the devout con- 
sider effectual when they are trying to obtain 
favours from Heaven." This from a Parisian was 
critical judgment. 

As the Queen was born to rule, she could not 

comprehend any form of government but absolute 

monarchy. Her Parliament was shocked when 

she interrupted its Councils by shrill screams of 

''Taisez-vous / " But her behaviour was consistent ; 

she believed that she expressed the authority of 

her son's kingship when she raised her high falsetto 

and shouted to her deputies to hold their tongues. 

The new Minister, Mazarin, was of Sicilian origin, 
16 



242 The Youth of 

and forty years of age. In Paris, where he had 
officiated two years (1634-1636), as Papal Nuncio, 
he was known by his original Italian name, Maza- 
rini. When he was first seen at Court he en- 
tered without ceremony and Installed himself with 
the natural ease of an habitue returned after a 
forced absence. No one knew by what right he 
made himself at home. Richelieu profited by his 
versatility and made use of him in various ways. 
Mazarin was gifted with artistic taste, and he 
wielded a fluent pen. His appointment as repre- 
sentative of the Holy See had proved his capacity 
and blameless character. Paris knew that Richelieu 
had written to him from his death-bed : " I give my 
book into your hands with the approbation of our 
good Master, so that you may conduct it to perfec- 
tion." 

Almost immediately after de Richelieu breathed 
his last the King called Mazarin to the palace, 
where he remained hard at work as long as the 
King lived. He had no special duties, but he 
lived close to the royal invalid, did everything that 
de Richelieu had done, and made himself in every 
way indispensable. To the wounds of the tired 
spirit whose peace the scorching splendour of the 
great Cardinal had withered the calm presence of 
the lesser Cardinal was balm. Mazarin employed 
his leisure as he saw fit ; how he employed it the 
world knew later. He was seldom seen either in 
the palace or out of it. When Louis XI 1 1, died 
and the people, little and great, thronged the 























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ANNE OF AUSTRIA 



La Grande Mademoiselle 243 

streets and the highways and flocked to Parliament 
to witness the establishment of the Regfent, Maz- 
arin was not in evidence. When the Provost's ad- 
dress and the other addresses were read, and when 
the people welcomed their young- King, Mazarin 
was not seen, and as he was not at the funeral of 
the King, and as no one had heard from him since 
the King's death, it was believed that he had re- 
turned to his own country. 

Prominent Parisians who knew everything and 
every one had formed no opinion of Mazarin's 
character or of his personal appearance. He had 
been Nuncio ; that was all that they knew of him. 
Olivier d'Ormesson, who went everywhere, knew 
every one of any importance in Paris, yet when 
Mazarin had been Prime Minister six months, d'Or- 
messon spoke of him as if he had seen him but 
once. In d'Ormesson's Journal v^^ read : 

Saturday morning, 4 November (1643). M. le Cardinal, 
Mazarin, came to the Council to-day. He was late. The 
Chancellor had been waiting for him half an hour. Cardinal 
Mazarin took his place as Chief of Council and was the first 
to sign the resolutions ; he wrote : Cardinal Massarini. At 
first, as he knew neither the order of the Court nor the names 
of the members, he was somewhat confused. Judging by 
appearances he knows nothing of financial affairs. He is 
tall, he carries himself well, he is handsome. His eyes are 
clear and spiritual, the colour of his hair is chestnut brown ; 
the expression of his face is very gentle and sweet. Monsieur 
the Chancellor instructed him in the Parliamentary procedure 
and then every one addressed him directly and before they 
addressed any one else. . . . 



244 The Youth of 

The new Chief of Council was as modest as the 
unobtrusive Cardinal who assumed the duties of 
the orreat de RicheHeu. Mazarin found better em- 
ployment for his talents than the exhibition of his 
pomp. His design was to render his position im- 
pregnable, and we know what means he selected 
for its achievement. In his pocket diary (which 
the National Library preserves) he employed three 
languages, French, Spanish, and Italian. When- 
ever the Queen is mentioned the language is Span- 
ish. The ingenuous frankness with which the 
writer of the strange notes recorded his intentions 
enables us to follow him step by step through all 
the labyrinths of his relations with royalty. His 
reflections make It clear that his aim was the 
Queen's heart : in the record dated August, 1634, 
we read : " If I could believe what they tell me — 
that her Majesty is making use of me because she 
needs my services, and that she has no inclination 
for me, — I would not stay here three days." 

Apropos of his enemies he wrote : " Well, they 
are laying their heads together and planning a 
thousand Intrigues to lessen my chances with her 
Majesty." 

(The Queen's friends had warned her that her 
Minister would compromise her.) 

" The Abbess of the Carmelites has been talking 
to her Majesty. When she talked the Queen 
wept. She told the Abbess that in case the sub- 
ject should be mentioned again she would not visit 
the convent." 



La Grande Mademoiselle 245 

Mazarin's diary conveys the impression that the 
man who edited it so carefully feared that he might 
forget something that he wished to say to the 
Queen. He made a note of everything that he 
meant to advise her to do, and of all the appeals 
and all the observations that he intended to make. 

Following is a very simple reminder of words to 
be used when next he should see the Queen alone. 

They tell me that her Majesty is forced to make excuses 
for her manifestations of regard for me. . . . This is such 
a delicate subject that her Majesty ought to pity me . . . 
ought to take compassion on me, even if I speak of it often 
. . . I have no right to doubt, since, in the excess of her 
kindness, her Majesty has assured me that nothing can ever 
lower me from the place in her favour which she has deigned 
to give me . . . but in spite of everything because Fear 
is the inseparable attendant of Love . . . etc. 

The '* memorandum " which follows this last note 
gave proof of the speed of his wooing, and of his 
progress : " The jaundice caused by an excessive 
love. ..." 

That Mazarin felt that he was strong was shown 
by the fact that he made suggestions to the Queen 
and offered her advice of a peculiarly Intimate 
character. The note which follows covers the 
ground of one of the lines of argument used by him 
for the subjection of his royal lady and mistress : 

*' Her Majesty ought to apply herself to the 
winning over of all hearts to my cause ; she should 
do so by making me the agent from whose hand 
they receive all the favours that she grants them." 



246 The Youth of 

After Anne of Austria qualified the Cardinal by 
the exequatur of her love, Mazarin dictated the 
language of the State. In his diary we find, ver- 
batim, the diplomatic addresses and suggestions 
which were to be delivered by the Queen. 

While the Queen's lover was enp^asfed in main- 
taining his position against determined efforts to 
displace him, France enjoyed a few delightful 
moments. The long-continued anxiety had passed, 
the tension of the nation's nerves had yielded to 
the beneficent treatment of the conscientious 
counsellors, and the peaceful quiet of a temporary 
calm gave hope to the light-minded and strength 
and courage to the far-sighted, who foresaw the 
coming storm. To the majority of the people the 
resplendent victory of Rocroy (19th May, 1643), 
which immediately followed the death of Louis 
XIII., seemed a proof that God had laid His pro- 
tecting hand upon the infant King and upon his 
mother. 

This belief was daily strengthened. War had 
been carried to a foreign country, and the testi- 
mony of French supremacy had come back from 
many a battle-field. In the eyes of the world we 
occupied a brilliant position. Success had followed 
success in our triumphant march from Rocroy 
to the Westphalian treaties. Our diplomacy had 
equalled our military strategy and the strength of 
our arms ; and a part of our glory had been the re- 
sult of the efforts of the Prime Minister who ruled 
our armies and the nation. In the opinion of our 



La Grande Mademoiselle 247 

foreign enemies Mazarin had fully justified Riche- 
lieu's confidence and the choice of Anne of Austria. 
His selection of agents had shown that he was 
in possession of all his senses ; he had divined the 
value of the Due d' Enghien and appointed him 
General-in-chief, though the boy was but twenty- 
two years old ; he had sounded the character of 
Turenne ; he had judiciously listed the names of 
the men to be appointed for the diplomatic mis- 
sions, and he had proved that he knew the strength 
of France by ordering the ministers to hold their 
ground, to ** stand firm," and not to concern them- 
selves either with the objections or the resistance 
of other nations. The majority of the French 
people failed to recognise Cardinal Mazarin's serv- 
ices until the proper time for their recognition had 
passed, but Retz distinctly stated that Mazarin was 
popular in Paris during the first months of his 
ministry : 

France saw a gentle and benignant Being sitting on the steps 
of the throne where the harsh and redoubtable Richelieu had 
blasted, rather than governed men. The harassed country re- 
joiced in its new leader,' who had no personal wishes and 
whose only regret was that the dignity of his episcopal office 
forbade him to humiliate himself before the world as he would 
have been glad to do. He passed through the streets with 
little lackeys perched behind his carriage ; his audiences were 
unceremonious, access to his presence was absolutely free, and 
people dined with him as if he had been a private person. 

' Memoir e du roi au plenipotentiaires (6th January, 1644). (" II ne faut pas 
s' etonner de tout ce que diseiit nos ennemies ; C est a nous de tenir : il est 
indubitable qu' ils se rangeront peu a peu.") 



248 The Youth of 

The arrest of the Due de Beaufort and the dis- 
persion of the Importants astonished the people, 
but did not affright them. Hope was the anchor of 
the National Soul. They who had formed the party 
of Marie de Medicis and the party of Anne of Aus- 
tria hoped to bring about the success of their former 
projects, and to enforce peace everywhere ; they 
hoped to substitute a Spanish alliance for the Pro- 
testant alliance. The great families hoped to regain 
their authority at the expense of the authority of 
the King. Parliament hoped to play a great politi- 
cal part. The people hoped for peace ; they had 
been told that the Queen had taken a Minister solely 
for the purpose of making peace. The entire Court 
from the first Prince of the Blood to the last of the 
lackeys lived in hope of some grace or some favour, 
and as to that they were rarely disappointed, for the 
Administration "refused nothing." Honours, dig- 
nities, positions, and money were freely dispensed, 
not only to those who needed them, but to those 
who were already provided with them. La Feuil- 
lade said that there were but four words in the 
French language : " The Queen is good ! " 

So many cases of private and individual happi- 
ness gave the impression of public and general 
happiness. Paris expressed its satisfaction by en-, 
tering heart and soul into its amusements. It 
played by day and it played by night, exhibiting 
the extraordinary appetite for pleasure which has 
always distinguished it. 

" All, both the little and the great, are happy," 



La Grande Mademoiselle 249 

said Saint Evremond ; " the very air they breathe 
is charged with amusement and with love." Ma- 
demoiselle preserved a grateful memory of that 
period of joyous intoxication. " The first months 
of the Regency," she said in her memoirs, "were 
the most beautiful that one could have wished. It 
was nothing but perpetual rejoicing everywhere. 
Hardly a day passed that there were not serenades 
at the Tuileries or in the place Royale." 

The mourning for the late King hindered no 
one, not even the King's widow, who passed her 
evenings in Renard's garden,^ where she frequently 
supped with her friends. Though the return of 
winter drove the people from the public walks, the 
universal amusements went on. " They danced 
everywhere," said Mademoiselle, " and especially 
at my house, although it was not at all according 
to decorum to hear violins in a room draped with 
mourning." We note here that at the time Made- 
moiselle wrote thus she was regfarded as a victim. 
It was rumoured in Paris that her liberty and her 
pleasures were restricted, and the indignation of 
the people seethed at thought of it. Mademoiselle 
had lost her indulgent friend and governess, Mme. 
de Saint Georges. Her new governess, Mme. de 
Fiesque, a woman of firm will who looked with 
disfavour upon her pupil's untrammelled ways, 
made attempts to discipline her. When Mme. de 
Fiesque exerted her authority the canaille formed 
groups and threatened the palace of the Tuileries. 

' The first of our casinos. 



250 The Youth of 

Mademoiselle was sixteen years old and the whole 
world knew it. The people thought, as she thought, 
that she was too old to be imprisoned like a child. 
She was quick to avenge her outraged dignity ; the 
governess was headstrong. Slap answered slap 
and, after the combat, Mademoiselle was under 
lock and key six days. 

But all that was forgotten. 

Mademoiselle had in mind something more 
important than her childish punishment. The 
death of Louis XIII. had enabled Gaston to send 
for his wife. The Regency made but one con- 
dition, — the married pair were to be remarried in 
France. The Princess Gaston was on the way, 
travelling openly, entering France with the repu- 
tation of a heroine of romance. Mademoiselle 
revelled in the thought of a step-mother as young 
and as beautiful as an houri. They would dance 
together ; they would run about like sisters ! 

Twelve years previous to the death of Louis 
XIII., when Marguerite de Lorraine committed 
the so-called "crime" which Richelieu's juriscon- 
sults qualified by a name for which we shall substi- 
tute the less discouraging term ** abduction," events 
separated the wedded pair at the church door. 
The sacrament of marriage had just been adminis- 
tered. 

Madame fled before the minions of the law 
reached Nancy and found her way cut off by the 
French army. She donned the wig and garments 
of a man, besmirched her face with suet, crossed 



La Grande Mademoiselle 251 

the French line in a cardinal's coach, covered 
twenty leagues on horseback, and joined Monsieur 
in Flanders. The world called her courageous, 
and when she exercised her impeccancy during a 
nine years' separation from her husband, conjugal 
fidelity rare enough at any time, and especially 
rare at that time, definitely ranged her among 
spectacular examples of virtue. 

Handsome, brave, free from restraint, and vir- 
tuous ! Paris was curious to see her. 

At Meudon (27th May, 1643) ^1^^ people made 
haste to reach the spot before she alighted from 
her carriage. They were eager to witness her 
meeting with the light-minded husband with whom 
France was at last to permit her to cast her lot 
and from whom she had been separated so long. 
Mademoiselle wrote : 

I ran on ahead of them all so that I might be at Gonesse 
when she arrived. From Gonesse she proceeded to Meudon 
without passing through Paris. She did not wish to stop in 
Paris because she was not in a condition to salute their 
Majesties. In fact, she could not salute them, because she 
was not dressed in mourning. We arrived at Meudon late, 
where Monsieur — having gone there to be on the spot when 
she arrived — found her waiting in the courtyard. Their 
first meeting took place in the presence of all who had ac- 
companied them. Every one was astonished to see the cold- 
ness with which they met. It seemed strange ! Monsieur 
had endured so much persecution from the King, and from 
Richelieu, solely on account of his marriage ; and all his suf- 
fering had only seemed to confirm his constancy to Madame, 
therefore coldness seemed unexpected. 

Both Monsieur and Madame were much embar- 



252 . The Youth of 

rassed ; it was a trying thing to meet after a separa- 
tion of nine years. 

Monsieur had not materially changed, although 
he had acquired a habit of the gout which hindered 
him when he attempted to pirouette. Madame 
appeared faded and ill-attired, but that was but a 
natural consequence of the separation ; it was to 
be expected. 

When their marriage had been duly regulated 
and recorded in the Parish Register, the couple 
established themselves in Gaston's palace, and the 
Court found that it had acquired an hypochondriac. 
The romantic type of constancy habitually hung 
upon the gate of Death. Mme. de Motteville said : 

She rarely left her home; she affirmed that the least ex- 
citement brought on a swoon. Several times I saw Monsieur 
mock her; he told the Queen that Madame would receive the 
sacrament in bed rather than to go into her chapel, although the 
chapel was close by, — and all that " though she had no ailment 
of any importance." 

When Madame visited the Queen, as she did 
once in twenty-four months, she was carried in a 
sedan chair, as other ladies of her quality were 
carried, but her movements were attended by such 
distress and by so much bustle that her arrival con- 
veyed the impression of a miracle. Frequently, 
when she had started upon a journey, or to pay a 
visit to the Queen, before she had gone three yards 
she declared that she had been suddenly seized by 
faintness, or by some other ill ; then her bearers 
were forced to make haste to return her to the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 253 

house. She lived in Gaston's palace in the Lux- 
embourg. Mademoiselle's palace was in the Tui- 
leries, and the royal family lived either in the 
palace of the Louvre, in the Palais Royal, or in the 
Chateau of Saint Germain. 

Madame declared that her life had been one 
continuous agony. She announced her evils not 
singly but in clusters, and although none of them 
were evident to the disinterested observer, her 
diagnoses displayed so thorough a knowledge of 
their essential character that to harbour a doubt of 
their reality would be to confess a consciousness 
of uncertainty akin to the skepticism of the 
ignorant. 

At the advent of Madame the spiritual atmos- 
phere of the Luxembourg changed. The Princess 
was a moralist, and either because of her nervous 
anxiety for his welfare, or for some other reason, 
she harangued her husband day and night. The 
irresponsible Gaston was a signal example of mari- 
tal patience ; he carried his burden bravely, listened 
attentively to his wife's rebukes, sang and laughed, 
whistled and cut capers, pulled his elf-locks In mock 
despair, and, clumsily whirling upon his gouty heels, 
" made faces " behind Madame's drooping shoul- 
ders ; but he bore her plaintive polemics without a 
murmur, and although he freely ridiculed her, he 
never left her side. " Madame loved Monsieur 
ardently," and Monsieur returned Madame's love 
in the disorderly manner In which he did every- 
thing. " One may say that he loved her, but that 



254 The Youth of 

he did not love her often," wrote Mme. de Motte- 
ville. The pubHc soon lost its interest in the spec- 
tacular household ; Madame was less heroic than 
her reputation. Mademoiselle despaired when 
Madame urged Monsieur to be prudent ; to her 
mind her father's prudence had invariably exceeded 
the proportions of virtue. Generally speaking, 
Madame's first relations with her step-daughter 
were cordial, but they were limited to a purely con- 
ventional exchange of civilities. Speaking of that 
epoch, Mademoiselle said : " I did all that I possibly 
could to preserve her good graces, which I should 
not have lost had she not given me reason to neg- 
lect them." Mademoiselle could not have loved 
her step-mother, nor could she have been loved by 

her ; Madame and Mademoiselle were of different 
and distinct orders. 

II 

The routine requirements of Mademoiselle's 
periods of mourning diverted her mind from her 
marriage projects, but she soon resumed her ef- 
forts. She had no adviser, and no one cared for 
her establishment ; Gaston was too well em- 
ployed in spending her money to concern him- 
self with her future, and, as the duties of daily 
life fatigued Madame, Mademoiselle could not hope 
for assistance from her step-mother ; the Queen 
was her only hope, and the Queen's executor was 
jealously guarding her fine principalities and keep- 
ing close watch over her person. In 1644 the King 



La Grande Mademoiselle 255 

of Spain, Philippe IV., the brother of Anne of 
Austria, became a widower. He was the enemy of 
France, and it would have been folly to give him a 
right to any portion of French territory ; but Made- 
moiselle did not consider that fact ; her political 
intuitions were not keen. All that she could see 
was that the King had a crown, and that it was 
such a crown as would adorn the title of her own 
nobility. For some occult reason which, as no one 
has ever located It, will probably remain enigmati- 
cal. Mademoiselle imagined that Philippe IV. desired 
to espouse her ; and she passed her time forming 
plans and waiting for the Spanish envoy who was 
to come to France to ask her father for her hand. 
As It Is difficult to believe that she ever could have 
dreamed the story that she tells in her memoirs, 
we must suppose that there was some foundation for 
her hopes. Possibly the expectations upon which 
she artlessly dilated sprang from the Intriguing de- 
signs of her subalterns.^ 

The Queen bore witness to me that she passionately wished 
for the marriage, and Cardinal Mazarin spoke of it in the same 
way; more than that, he told me that he had received news 
from Spain which had shown him that the affair was desired 
in that country. Both the Queen and the Cardinal spoke of 
it repeatedly, not only to me but to Monsieur. By feigned 
earnestness they impressed us with the idea that they wished 
for the marriage. They lured us with that honour, though 
they had no intention of obliging us; and our good faith was 
such that we did not perceive their lack of sincerity. As we 
had full belief in them, it was easy for them to elude the obli- 
' Mhnoires of Mademoiselle. 



256 The Youth of 

gations incurred by them when they aroused our expectations, 
and, in fact, that was just what they did; having talked freely 
of it to us during a certain period, they suddenly ceased to 
speak of it, and everything thereafter was as it would have 
been had there been no question of the marriage. 

Mademoiselle's anxieties and hopes were fed 
alternately. To add to her distress, a Spaniard 
was caught on French soil and cast into the Bastille. 
Mademoiselle grieved bitterly over his fate ; she 
supposed that the prisoner had been sent by the 
Spanish King to negotiate the marriage ; it was her 
belief that Mazarin's spies had warned him (Maza- 
rin) of the arrival of the envoy, and that the 
Cardinal had ordered the arrest to prevent the 
envoy from delivering his despatches ; the Inter- 
pretation was chimerical. Our knowledge is con- 
fined to the fact that nothing more was said of 
Mademoiselle's marriage, and that when the King 
was ready to marry he married an Austrian. 

The troubles of England provided Mademoiselle 
with a more serious suitor. Queen Henriette, the 
daughter of Henry of Navarre, had fled to France, 
and France, in the person of the Regent, had in- 
stalled her in the Louvre. Before that time Anne 
of Austria had moved from the Louvre to the 
Palais Royal, which was a more commodious resid- 
ence, well fitted to the prevailing taste. Queen 
Henriette was ambitious, and she began to form 
projects for an alliance with France before she 
recovered from the fatigue of her journey. 

Mademoiselle was a spirited Princess, very hand- 



La Grande Mademoiselle 257 

some, witty, and an ardent partisan. Such a wife 
would be a credit to any king, and the Montpensier 
estates were needed by the throne of England. 
Queen Henriette was sanguine ; she ignored the 
fact that her son's future was dark and threat- 
ening. She made proposals to Mademoiselle and 
Mademoiselle received them coldly. Her ideas 
of propriety were shocked by the thought of 
such an alliance. The Queen of England was a 
refugee, dependent upon the bounty of France. 
There could be no honour or profit in marriage 
to her son ! 

Queen Henriette was the first of a series of exiled 
monarchs to whom France gave hospitality, and It 
must be said that her manner of opening a series 
was not a happy one. The sovereigns of former 
times were not familiar with revolutions, and their 
ignorance made them fearless ; they despised pre- 
cautions ; they were improvident, they saved nothing 
for a rainy day ; they scorned foreign stocks ; they 
avoided business, and looked with contempt upon 
foreign bankers. If they lost their thrones they 
fled to forelo^n countries and sought refuo-e in the 
kingdoms of their friends, and there their comfort 
and their respectability were matters of chance ; 
their friends might be In easy circumstances, and 
they might be on the verge of bankruptcy ; a king's 
crown was not always accompanied by a full 
purse. 

When Queen Henriette arrived In Paris she 
was received with honours and with promises. 



258 The Youth of 

The courtiers donned their festive robes "broid- 
ered with gold and with silver," ^ and went to 
Montrouge to meet her and escort her into Paris. 
Anne of Austria received her affectionately and 
seated her at her right hand at banquets. Mazarin 
announced that she was to draw a salary of twelve 
hundred francs per diem ; in short, everything was 
done to flatter the English guest. The credulous 
Henriette accepted the flattery and the promises 
literally and she was dazed, when, awaking to the 
truth, she found that she was a beggar. Recording 
the history of that epoch, Mademoiselle said : 

The Queen of England had appeared everywhere in Paris 
attended like a Queen, and with a Queen's equipage. With 
her we had always seen her many ladies of quality, chariots, 
guards, and footmen. Little by little all that disappeared and 
the time came when nothing was more lacking to her dignity 
than her retinue and all the pomps to which she had been 
accustomed." 

Queen Henriette was obliged to sell her jewels 
and her silver dishes ; debts followed debts, and 
the penniless sovereign had no way to meet them. 
The little court of the Louvre owed the baker and 
could not pay its domestic servants. Mme. de 
Motteville visited the Louvre and found Queen 
Henriette practically alone. She was sitting, de- 
jectedly meditating, in one of the great empty 
salles ; her unpaid servitors had abandoned her 
and her suite had gone where they could find 
nourishment. 

' Olivier d'Ormesson, 




HENRIETTA, DUCHESSE D'ORLEANS 

FROM A STEEL ENGRAVING 



La Grande Mademoiselle 259 

In her account of her visit Mme. de Motteville 
said : 

She showed us a little golden cup, from which she habit- 
ually drank, and she swore to us that that was all the gold of any- 
kind that had been left in her possession. She said that, more 
than that, all her servants had demanded their wages and said 
that they would leave her service if she refused to satisfy their 
demands; and she said she had not been able to pay them. 

The spectacle of royal poverty and the tragical 
turn taken by English affairs gave Mademoiselle 
cause for serious thought. She saw that what- 
ever the Prince might be in the future, he was not 
a desirable suitor at the epoch existent ; and she 
spoke freely : 

Were I to marry that boy I should have to sell everything 
that I might possess and go to war! I should not be able to 
help it, I could not rest until I had staked my all on the 
chance of reconquering his kingdom! But as I had always 
lived in luxury, and as I had been free from care, the thought 
of such an uncertain condition troubled me. 

Had the Prince of Wales been a hero of the type 
of the Cid, Mademoiselle would have thrown prud- 
ence to the winds. Personal attraction, the mag- 
netism of love, the arguments used by Lauzun would 
have called her from her dreams of the pomp be- 
coming her rank, and she would have confronted 
poverty gaily ; her whole career proved that she 
was not of a calculating mind. The Prince of 
Wales was by three years her junior ; he was awk- 
ward and bashful, and so ignorant that he had no 



26o The Youth of 

conception of his own affairs. He lounged distract- 
edly through the vast, empty Louvre, absorbed in 
purposeless thought, and, goaded by his mother, he 
frequented the Tuileries and besieged the heart of 
his cousin, whom he amazed by the sluggish obsti- 
nacy of his attentions. He paid his court with the 
inconsequent air of a trained parrot ; the details of 
his love-making were ordered by his mother, and 
when, tormented by personal anxieties, the Queen 
of England forgfot to dictate his discourse, he sat 
before Mademoiselle with lips closed. He talked 
so little that it was said he " opened his teeth only 
to devour fat meat." At one of the banquets of 
the Queen of France he refused to touch the orto- 
lans, and falling upon an enormous piece of beef 
and upon a shoulder of mutton he " ate as if there 
had been nothing else in the world, and as if he had 
never eaten before." 

" His taste," mused Mademoiselle, " appeared to 
me to be somewhat indelicate ; I was ashamed be- 
cause he was not as good in other respects as he 
bore witness that he was in his feeling for me." 

After the banquet at which the Prince refused 
the ortolans, the cousins were left alone, and, com- 
menting upon the fact later, Anne-Marie-Louise 
said : "It pleases me to believe that on that occa- 
sion his silence resulted from an excess of respect 
for me rather than from lack of tenderness ; but 
I will avow the truth ; I would have been better 
pleased had he shown less stolidity and less de- 
ficiency in the transports of the love-passion." It 



La Grande Mademoiselle 261 

is but fair to say in behalf of the timid suitor that, 
according to his feeble light, he acquitted himself 
conscientiously ; he gazed steadfastly in his cousin's 
pretty face, he held the candle when her hair-dresser 
coiffed her hair ; but as he was only a great boy, 
just at the age of dumb stupidity, he had few 
thoughts which were not personal, and few words 
to express even those. He was neither Chdrubin, 
Fortunio, nor Rodrigue. "He had not an iota of 
sweetness," declared Mademoiselle. Worse than 
that, he had none of the exalted sentiments by 
means of which the heroes of Corneille manifested 
their identity, and to Mademoiselle that was a seri- 
ous matter. As the awkward suitor became more 
insistent Mademoiselle was seized by a determina- 
tion to be rid of him. Her records fix the date of 
her adverse inspiration. "In 1647 toward the end 
of winter ^ a play followed by a ball was given at 
the Palais Royal [the trago-comedy, Orpheus, in 
music and Italian verse]." Anne of Austria, who 
had no confidence in her niece's taste, insisted that 
the young lady should be coiffed and dressed under 
her own eye. Mademoiselle said : 

They were engaged three whole days arranging my coiffure; 
my robe was all trimmed with diamonds and with white and 
black carnation tufts. I had upon me all the stones of the 
Crown, and all the jewels owned by the Queen of England [at 
that time she still possessed a few]. No one could have been 
more magnificently bedight than I was for that occasion, and 

' Mademoiselle erred as to the date ; the Gazette de France fixes it March 
8th. 



262 The Youth of 

I did not fail to find many people to tell me of my splendour 
and to talk about my pretty figure, my graceful and agreeable 
bearing, my whiteness, and the sheen of my blonde hair, which 
they said adorned me more than all the riches which glittered 
upon my person. 

After the play a ball was given on a great, well- 
lighted stage. At the end of the stage was a 
throne raised three steps high and covered by a 
dais ; according to Mademoiselle's account : 

Neither the King nor the Prince of Wales would sit upon the 
throne, and as I, alone, remained upon it, I saw the two Princes 
and all the Princesses of the Court at my feet. I did not 
feel awkward or ill at ease, and no one of all those who saw 
me failed to tell me that i had never seemed less constrained 
than then, that I was of a race to occupy the throne, and that 
I should occupy my own throne still more freely and more 
naturally when the time came for me to remain upon it. 

Seen from the height of the throne, the Prince of 
Wales seemed less of a man than he had ever 
seemed before, and from that day Mademoiselle 
spoke of him as " that poor fellow." She said : " I 
pitied him. My heart as well as my eyes looked 
down upon him, and the thought entered my mind 
that I should marry an emperor." The thought of 
an emperor entered her mind the previous year 
when Ferdinand III. became a widower. Mon- 
sieur's favourite, the Abbe Riviere, — with a view 
to his own interests, and possibly with some hope 
of adding to his income, — announced the welcome 
tidings of the Empress's death as soon as he re- 
ceived them : and Mademoiselle said : 



La Grande Mademoiselle 263 

" M. de la Riviere told me that I must marry- 
either the Emperor or his brother. I told him 
that I should prefer the Emperor." 

Paris heard of the project that same evening. 
Mademoiselle did not receive proposals from the 
Emperor at that time or at any other time, but the 
idea that she was to be an Empress haunted her 
mind, and as she was very frank, she told her hopes 
freely. La Riviere and others like him, taking ad- 
vantage of her public position and of her accessibil- 
ity, told her flattering tales and suggested alliances ; 
she was informed that the Court of Vienna, the 
Court of Germany, and in fact all the Courts, desired 
alliance with her, and she believed all that was said. 
The evening of the ball, Anne of Austria declared, 
by Mademoiselle's own account, that she " wished 
passionately that the marriage with the Emperor 
mig-ht be arrangfed, and that she should do all that 
lay in her power to bring it about." Mademoiselle 
did not believe in the Regent's promises, but she 
listened to them and shaped her course by them. 
Gaston told her (in one of the rare moments when 
he remembered that she was his daughter) that the 
Emperor was " too old," and that she would not 
be happy in his country. Mademoiselle answered 
that she cared more for her establishment than for 
the person of her suitor. Gaston reflected upon 
the statement and promised to do everything pos- 
sible for the furtherance of her schemes. Made- 
moiselle recorded his promise with the comment : 
" So after that I thought of the marriage continually 



264 The Youth of 

and my dream of the Empire so filled my mind that 
I considered the Prince of Wales only as an object 
of pity." This folly, while it gave free play to 
other and similar follies, clung to her mind with 
strange tenacity, and long after the Emperor mar- 
ried the Austrian Mademoiselle said archly : " The 
Empress is enceinte ; she will die when she is deliv- 
ered, and then — ." The Empress did die, either 
at the moment of her deliverance or at some other 
moment, and Mademoiselle took the field, deter- 
mined to march on to victory. One of her gentle- 
men (of the name of Saujon) whom she fancied 
" because he was half crazy," secretly placed in her 
hand a regularly organised correspondence treating 
of her marriaore. Mademoiselle received all the 
letters, read them, approved of them, and ap- 
pointed Saujon charge of her affairs. By her order 
Saujon travelled to Germany to bring about the 
marriage. No one had ever heard of a royal or a 
quasi-royal alliance negotiated by a private individ- 
ual, but Saujon boldly entered upon his mission. 
Incidentally he revised Mademoiselle's despatches ; 
adding and eliminating sentences according to his 
own idea of the exigfencies of the case. One of his 
letters was intercepted and he was arrested and cast 
into prison. It was rumoured that he had made 
an attempt to abduct the Princess so that she might 
marry the Archduke Leopold. 

At first Mademoiselle laughed at the rumours. 
She declared that people knew her too well to 
think that she could do anything so ridiculous. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 265 

Mazarin cross-questioned Saujon, — and no one 
knew better than he how to conduct an inquest, — 
but turn his victim as he might the Cardinal could 
not wring from Saujon anything but the truth. 
Saujon insisted that Mademoiselle had not known 
anything concerning the intercepted letter. 

Anne of Austria, seconded by Monsieur, feigned 
to take the affair seriously, and a violent scene 
ensued. 

One evening (May 6, 1648, according to d'Or- 
messon) the Abbe de la Riviere met Mademoiselle 
in the corridor of the Palais Royal, and casually in- 
formed her that the Queen and Monsieur were 
angry. Almost at the same instant Monsieur 
issued from the room adjoining the corridor and 
ordered his daughter to enter the Queen's room. 

Then [said Mademoiselle] I went into the Queen's gallery. 
Mile, de Guise, who was with me, would have followed me, 
but Monsieur furiously shut the door in her face. Had not 
my mind been free from all remorse I should have been 
frightened, but I knew that I was innocent, and I advanced 
toward the Queen, who greeted me angrily. She said to the 
Cardinal : " We must wait until her father comes ; he must 
hear it ! " I went to the window, which was higher than the 
rest of the gallery, and I listened with all the pride possible 
to one who feels that her cause is just. When Monsieur ar- 
rived the Queen said to me sharply : " Your father and I 
know all about your dealings with Saujon. We know all your 
plans ! " I answered that I did not know to what plans she 
had reference, and that I was somewhat curious to know what 
her Majesty meant. 

Anne of Austria was angry, and her shrill falsetto 



266 The Youth of 

conveyed an impression of vulgarity. Mademoi- 
selle, calmly contemptuous, on foot and very erect, 
stood in the embrasure of the long window ; 
Monsieur, who dreaded his daughter's anger, had 
drawn close to the Queen ; directly behind Mon- 
sieur was Mazarin, visibly amused. 

Mademoiselle listened to her accusers, and an- 
swered with a sneer that she had nothing to do with 
it, that she was not interested in it, that such a 
scheme was worthy of low people. 

" This concerns my honour," she said coldly ; " it is not a 
question of the head of Cinq-Mars, nor of Chalais, whom 
Monsieur delivered to death. No ; nor is it an affair to be 
classed with the examinations to which Richelieu subjected 
your Majesty ! " 

" It is a fine thing," screamed Ann£ of Austria, "to recom- 
pense a man for his attachment to your service by putting 
his head upon the block ! " 

" It would not be the first head that had visited the block, 
but it would be the first one that I had put there," retorted 
Mademoiselle. 

" Will you answer what you are asked ? " demanded the 
Queen. I obeyed [said Mademoiselle]. I told her that 
as I had never been questioned, I should be embarrassed to 
answer. Cardinal Mazarin listened to all that I said, and 
he laughed. . . . The discussion seemed long to me. 
Repetitions which are not agreeable always produce that 
effect. The conversation had lasted an hour and a half. It 
bored me, and as I saw that it would never end if I did not 
go away, I said to the Queen: "I believe that your Majesty 
has nothing more to say to me." She replied that she had 
not. I curtsied and went out from the combat, victorious, 
but very angry. As I abandoned the field, the Abbe de la 
Riviere tried to address me. I halted, and discharged my 



La Grande Mademoiselle 267 

anger at him; then I went to my room, where I was seized by- 
fever. 

Before she " abandoned the field " Mademoiselle 
rated Monsieur, who had imprudently attempted to 
interpose a word in favour of the Queen. Mme. 
de Motteville, to whom Anne of Austria told the 
story, reported that Mademoiselle reproached her 
father bitterly because he had not married her to 
the Emperor, when he " might easily have done 
so." She told him that it was shameful for a man 
not to defend his daughter " when her glory ap- 
peared to be attacked." The courtiers assembled 
in the adjoining room, though unable to distin- 
guish the words of the discussion, had listened with 
curiosity. Mme. de Motteville said : 

We could not hear what they were saying, but we heard the 
noise of the accusations and we heard Mademoiselle's calm 
defence. The Queen's Minister avoided showing that he was 
interested in it in any way. Although there were but three 
voices there was so great a clamour that we were anxious to 
know the result and the meaning of the quarrel. Mademoi- 
selle came out of the gallery looking more haughty than 
ashamed, and her eyes shone with anger rather than with re- 
pentance. That evening the Queen did me the honour to tell 
me that had she been possessed of a daughter who had treated 
her as Mademoiselle had treated Monsieur, she would have 
banished her and never permitted her to return, — and that 
she should have shut her up in a convent. 

The day after the discussion guards were 
mounted at the door of Mademoiselle's apart- 
ments. The Abbe de la Riviere visited Mademoi- 
selle to tell her that her father forbade her to 



268 The Youth of 

receive any one — no matter whom — until she 
was ready to confess what she knew of the inter- 
cepted letter. Mademoiselle remained firm in her 
denial of any knowledge of it. 

Though sick from grief, she held her ground ten 
days. Murmurs were heard among the canaille, 
and little groups approached the palace, looked 
threateningly into the courtyard, and gazed at 
Mademoiselle's closed windows. It was known 
that Mademoiselle was in prison and the people 
resented it. How long could she hold out ? How 
would it end ? " It was known," wrote Olivier 
d'Ormesson, " that the Queen had called her ' an 
insolent girl ' in the presence of her own father, 
and it was known that she had indignantly repudi- 
ated all knowledge of the intercepted letter ; it was 
known that she had defended herself bravely." 
As the hours passed the people's murmurs increased, 
the aspect of the canaille became so menacing that 
the terrified Gaston sought counsel of Mazarin. 
Mazarin favoured clemency ; he believed that 
Mademoiselle had been disciplined enough. By 
the advice of the angry Queen, Monsieur waited 
one day longer ; then word was sent to Mademoi- 
selle that she was free and that she might receive 
visits, and in an hour all the people of the under- 
world of Paris were hurrying to the palace, laugh- 
ing, shouting, crying to each other in broken voices. 
They surged past the sentinel and entered the 
courtyard ; men wept, women, holding their chil- 
dren above their heads, pointed to the open window 



La Grande Mademoiselle 269 

where Mademoiselle, emaciated by her ten days' 
trial, but still haughty and determined, looking 
down into the upturned faces, smiled a welcome. 
Public sympathy and the sympathy of both the 
Court and the city endorsed Mademoiselle's con- 
duct and condemned the conduct of Monsieur. 
According to contemporary judgment Monsieur had 
betrayed his own flesh and blood : he had been 
given an opportunity to prove himself a man and 
he had refused it. Innocent or culpable, the cus- 
tom of the day commanded the father to defend his 
child. 

I said to the Queen [said the worthy Motteville] that 
Mademoiselle was justified in refusing to avow it. I said that, 
whether it were true or untrue, Monsieur had not the right to 
forsake her. A girl is not to blame for thinking of her estab- 
lishment, but it is not right to let it be known that she is think- 
ing of it, nor is it proper to confess that she is working to 
accomplish it. 

All Monsieur's motives were known and they 
increased the contempt of the people. When 
Mademoiselle attained her majority she expressed 
a wish to take possession of her inheritance. She 
asked her father for an accounting and her father 
accused her of indelicacy and undutiful conduct. 
He continued to administer her fortune and to Qfive 
her such sums as he considered suitable for the 
maintenance of her home. In justification of his 
conduct he alleged that he had no money of his 
own, and that it was impossible to turn her prop- 
erty into funds. " Several times," said Mme. de 



2 70 The Youth of 

Motteville, " I have heard him say that he had not 
a sou that his daughter did not give him. ' My 
daughter possesses great weakh,' he used to ejacu- 
late ; ' were it not for that I should not know where 
to go for bread.' " People remembered that he 
had received a million of revenue when he mar- 
ried^ and they judged his conduct severely, but 
they were not astonished. " No one can hope 
much from the conduct of Monsieur," wrote Olivier 
d'Ormesson. 

After the quarrel the first meeting between father 
and daughter took place in the gallery of the Lux- 
embourg. Monsieur hunof his head. 

He changed colour [wrote Mademoiselle]; he appeared 
abashed ; he tried to reprimand me ; he began as people be- 
gin such things, but he knew that he ought to apologise to me 
rather than to blame me ; and in truth that was what he did ; 
he apologised, — though he did not seem to know that he was 
doing it. 

As they talked Monsieur's eyes filled with tears 
and Mademoiselle wept freely. To all appearances 
they were on the best of terms when they parted. 

Having appeased her father, Mademoiselle went 
to the Palais Royal hoping to pacify the Queen. 
Anne of Austria greeted her with icy reserve and 
Mademoiselle never could forgfet it. She had 
looked upon Anne of Austria as children look upon 
an elder sister. Thenceforth, feeling that she had 
no hope of support from her own family, she bent 

' About six millions of francs. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 271 

every effort to the difficult task of finding a suitable 
husband and of establishing her life on a firm and 
independent basis. Mazarin's unswerving deter- 
mination to prevent Mademoiselle's marriage was 
classed among the most important of the causes 
which contributed to the Fronde. The dangers at- 
tendant upon his conduct were real and serious ; 
practically he was Mademoiselle's only guardian, 
and Mademoiselle was not only the favorite of the 
people but the Princess of the reigning house. As 
the director of a powerful nation Mazarin had 
duties which no State's minister is justified in ignor- 
ing. There were- times when many of his other 
errors were so represented as to appear pardonable, 
but there never was a time when he was not 
blamed for the humiliation of the haughty Princess 
who, by no fault of her own, had been left upon 
the shores of life, isolated, hopeless of establish- 
ment, an object of ridicule to the unobservant who 
failed to see the pathetic loneliness of her posi- 
tion. The Parisians, high and low, thought that 
the Queen's Minister had done Mademoiselle an 
irreparable wrong, and it was thought that she 
knew that he had done her a wrong. It was be- 
lieved that she would be a dangerous adversary in 
the day when the French people called him to 
account. 

Mademoiselle knew her power and talked openly 
of what she could do. " I am," she said, " a very 
bad enemy ; hot-tempered, strong in anger ; and 
that, added to my birth, may well make my enemies 



272 The Youth of 

tremble." She could say it without boasting: she 
was a Free Lance and the great French People 
was her clan. 

Ill 

Two years ^ previous to the serio-comic scene in 
the Palais Royal, Emperor Ferdinand III. had 
barely escaped causing a catastrophe. Had the 
catastrophe been effected the victim would have 
been the Princess of a reiornino- house. This is a 
very roundabout way of saying that Mademoiselle's 
anxiety to marry the Emperor led her to prepare 
for the alliance by practising religion ; and that 
once engaged in the practice, she was seized by the 
desire to become a nun. 

The turbulent Princess who so ardently aspired 
to the throne of Ferdinand III. was as free in spirit 
as she was independent in action, and being hamp- 
ered by no religion but the religion of culture, she 
followed her fancies and adopted a line of conduct 
in singular opposition to her natural behaviour and 
inclinations. Lured by ambitious policy to affect 
the attitude of religious devotion, she fell into her 
own net and was so deceived by her feelings that 
she supposed that she wished to take the veil. The 
fact that at heart her wishes tended in a diametric- 
ally opposite direction furnished the most striking 
proof of the power of hypnotic auto-suggestion. I 
am speaking now of a time previous to Saujon's 
mission to Germany. In her own words : 

' Mademoiselle errs in supposing (in her memoirs) that it was but one 
year. Such errors are frequent in her writings. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 273 

The desire to be an empress followed me wherever I 
journeyed, and the effects of my wishes seemed to be so close 
at hand that I was led to believe that it would be well for me 
to form habits best suited to the habits and to the humour of 
the Emperor. I had heard it said that he was very devout, 
and by following his example I became so worshipful that af- 
ter I had feigned the appearance of devotion awhile I longed 
to be a nun. I never breathed a word of it to any one ; but 
during the whole of eight days I was inspired by a desire to 
become a Carmelite. I was so engrossed by this feeling that 
I could neither eat nor sleep. And I was so beset by that 
anxiety added to my natural anxiety, that they feared lest I 
should fall ill. Every time that the Queen went into the con- 
vents — which happened often — I remained in the church 
alone ; and thinking of all the persons who loved me and who 
would regret my retreat from the world, I wept. So that 
which appeared to be a struggle with my religious desire to 
break away from my worldly self was in reality a struggle 
progressing in my heart between my wish to enter the convent 
and my horror of leaving all whom I loved, and breaking 
away from all my tenderness for them. I can say only this: 
during these eight days the Empire was nothing to me. But 
I must avow that I felt a certain amount of vanity because I 
was to leave the world under such important circumstances. 

Mademoiselle had hung out the sign-board of re- 
ligion — if I may use such a term — and she multi- 
plied all the symptoms of religious conversion. To 
quote her own words : 

I did not appear at Court. I did not wear my patches, I 
did not powder my hair, — in fact, I neglected my hair until it 
was so long and so dusty that it completely disguised me. I 
used to wear three kerchiefs around my neck, — one over the 
other, — and they muflfled me so that in warm weather I nearly 
smothered. As I wished to look like a woman forty years old, 



2 74 The Youth of 

I never wore any coloured riband. As for pleasure, I took 
pleasure in nothing but in reading and re-reading the life of 
Saint Theresa. 

No one was astonished by reHgious demonstra- 
tions of that kind. Custom did not oppose the 
admission of the pubUc to the spectacle of intimate 
mental or spiritual crises which it is now considered 
proper to conceal. The only thing astonishing 
was that Mademoiselle had harboured the idea of 
forsaking the world. Her friends ridiculed her, 
and, stung by their raillery, she recanted. Speak- 
ing of it later, she said : " I wondered at my ideas ; 
I scoffed at my infatuation. I made excuses be- 
cause I had ever dreamed of such a project." 

Monsieur was more surprised than his neighbours, 
and his surprise assumed a more virulent form ; 
when his daughter begged to be permitted to enter 
a convent, when she declared that she would "bet- 
ter love to serve God than to wear the royal 
crowns of all the world," he gave way to a violent 
outburst of fury. Mademoiselle did not repeat her 
petition ; she begged him to let the subject drop ; 
and thus ended the comedy. 

In any other quarter curiosity regarding details 
would have been the only sentiment aroused by 
such a project. The daughters of many noble fam- 
ilies and the daughters of families beyond the 
pale of the nobility entered convents. In the 
spiritual slough in which France floundered toward 
the close of the sixteenth and the beginning of the 
seventeenth century, the nun's veil and the monk's 



La Grande Mademoiselle 275 

habit were the only suitable coverings for mental 
distress, and in many cases the convent and the 
monastery were the sole places of refuge in a 
world so lamentable that Berulle ^ and Vincent de 
Paul contemplated it with anguish. The convent 
was the only safe shelter for souls in which the 
germs of religious life had resisted the inroads of 
spiritual disease. In certain parts of the country, 
the annihilation of the Christian principle had 
resulted in the degradation of the Sacred Office 
and in the increase of the number of skeptics in 
the higher classes. 

Saving a few exceptions, who were types of the 
Temple of the Holy Ghost, the Church set the ex- 
ample of every form and every degree of contempt 
for its corporate body, for its individual mem- 
bers, and for its consecrated accessories. I have 
already spoken of the elegant cavaliers, who, in 
their leisure moments, played the part of priests. 
In their eyes a bishopric was a sinecure like an- 
other sinecure. The office of the priesthood en- 
tailed no special conduct, nor any special duty. In 
general, priests were shepherds who passed their 
lives at a distance from their flocks, revelling in 
luxury and in pleasure. " Turning abruptly," said 
an ecclesiastical writer, " from the pleasures of the 
Court to the austere duties of the priesthood, with- 
out any preparation save the royal ordinance, — an 
ordinance, peradventure, due to secret and unavow- 
able solicitations, — men assumed the office and 

' Pere de Berulle et T Oi-aioire de Je'stts, M, I'Abbe Houssaye. 



276 The Youth of 

became bishops before they had received Holy Or- 
ders. Naturally, such haphazard bishops brought 
to the Episcopate minds far from ecclesiastical." 
In that day cardinals and bishops were seen distrib- 
uting the benefits of their dioceses among their 
lower domestic tributaries. Thus valets, cooks, 
barbers, and lackeys were covered with the sacred 
vestments, and called to serve the altar.^ Being 
abandoned to their own devices, the lesser clergy 
— heirs to all the failings and all the weaknesses 
of the lower classes of the people — grovelled in 
ignorance and in disorder. The continually aug- 
menting evil was aggravated by the way in which 
the Church recruited the rank and file of her 
legions. As a rule, the cure, or living of the cure, 
was in the gift of the abbot. No one but the 
abbot had a right to appoint a cure. The abbot's 
power descended to his successor. That would 
have been well enough, had the abbot's virtues 
and good judgment — If such there had been — de- 
scended to the man Immediately following him in 
office, but the abbot thus empowered to appoint 
the cure was seldom capable of making a good 
choice or even a decent choice. 

The Court bestowed the abbeys on infants in 
the cradle, and the titulars were generally the 
illegitimate children of the princes, younger sons 
of great seigniors, notably gallant soldiers, and 
notoriously "gallant" women. The abbots were 
laical proteges of every origin, of every profession, 

' Saint Francois de Sales, Fortunat Strowski. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 277 

and of every character. Henry IV. bestowed 
abbeys indiscriminately. Among other notables 
who received the office of abbot at his hands were 
a certain number of Protestants and an* equally 
certain number of women. Sully possessed four 
abbeys ; " the fair Corisande " possessed an abbey 
(the Abbey of Chatillon-sur-Seine, where Saint 
Bernard had been raised). The fantastic abbots 
did not exert themselves to find suitable cures, and 
even had they been disposed to do so, where could 
they have gone to look for them ? There were no 
clerical nursery-gardens in which to sow choice 
seed and to root cuttings for the parterres of the 
Church, and this was the chief cause of the prevail- 
ing evil. As there were no seminaries, and as the 
presbyterial schools were in decay, there were no 
places where men could make serious preparation 
for the Episcopate. As soon as the youth destined 
for Orders had learned so much Latin that he 
could explain the gospels used in the service of 
the Mass, and translate his breviary well enough 
to say his Office, he was considered fit for the 
priesthood. It is not difficult to imagine what be- 
came of the sacraments of the Church when they 
fell into such hands. There were priests who 
eliminated all pretence of unction from Baptism. 
Others, though they had received no sacerdotal 
authority, joined men and women in marriage, and 
sent them away rejoicing at their escape from a 
more binding formality. Some of the priests were 
ignorant of the formula of Absolution, and in their 



2 78 The Youth of 

ignorance they changed, abridged, and transposed 
to suit their own taste the august words of the 
most redoubtable of mysteries. Dumb as cattle, 
the ignoble priests deserted the pulpit, so there 
were no more sermons ; there was no catechism, 
and the people, deprived of all instruction, were 
more benighted than their pastors. In some par- 
ishes there were men and women who were ignor- 
ant of the existence of God.^ 

The people had no teachers, and their manners 
were as neglected as their spiritual education. With 
rare exceptions, the provincial priest went to the 
wine-shops with his parishioners ; if he saw fit, he 
went without taking off his surplice, — nor was 
that the worst ; in every respect, and everywhere, 
and always, he set lamentable examples for his 
people. " One may say with truth and with hor- 
ror," cried the austere Bourdoise, the friend of 
Pere Berulle, "that of all the evil done in the 
world, the part done by the ecclesiastics is the 
worst." Pere Amelotte expressed his opinion with 
still more energy : " The name of priest," he 
cried, " has become the synonym of ignorance and 
debauchery ! " 

After the relie^ious wars there were neither 
churches nor presbyteries, and therefore there 
were thousands of villages where there were no 
priests, but it is to be doubted whether such vil- 
lages were more pitiable than those in which by 
their daily conduct the priests constantly provoked 

' The Abbe Houssaye, loc cit. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 279 

the people to despise the earthly representative of 
God. The abandoned villages were not plunged 
in thicker moral and religious darkness, or in 
grosser or more abominable superstition, than that 
into which the ignoble pastors led their flocks. In 
one half of the total number of the provinces of 
France, the work that the first missionaries to the 
Gauls had accomplished had all to be begun again. 
In the world of the aristocracy the condition of 
Catholicism was little better. When Vincent de 
Paul — by a mischance which was not to be the 
only one in his career — was appointed Almoner 
to Queen Marguerite, first wife of Henry IV., he 
was overwhelmed by what he saw and heard. The 
Court was two thirds pagan.-^ A loose and reckless 
line of thought, a moral libertinage, was considered 
a mark of elegance, and that opinion obtained 
until the seventeenth century. ^\i^ jeunesse dorSe, 
the "gilded youths" of the day, imitated the 
atheists and gloried in manifesting their contempt 
for the ** superstitions of religion." They repeated 
after Vanini that " man ought to obey the natural 
law," that "vice and virtue should be classed as pro- 
ducts of climate, of temperament, and of alimenta- 
tion," that " children born with feeble intellects are 
best fitted to develop into good Christians." Among 
the higher classes, piety was not entirely extinct ; 
that was proven in the days of the triumphant 
Renaissance, when the Catholicism of Bossuet 
and of Bourdaloue flamed with all the streno-th 

o 

' Saint Vincent de Paul et les Gondis, Chantelauze. 



28o The Youth of 

of a newly kindled fire from the dying embers of 
the old religion. But the belief in God and in the 
things of God was not to be avowed among peo- 
ple of intellect. In a certain elegant, frivolous, 
and corrupt world, impiety and wit marched hand 
in hand. A man was not absolutely perfect in 
tone and manners unless he seasoned his conversa- 
tion with a Pfrain of atheism.^ Under Louis XIII. 
in the immediate neighbourhood of royalty the 
tone changed, because the King's bigotry kept 
close watch over the appearance of religion. Men 
knew that they could not air their smart affecta- 
tion of skepticism with impunity when their chief 
not only openly professed and practised religion, 
but frowned upon those who did not. All felt 
that the only way to be popular at Court was to 
follow the example of the King, and all slipped 
their atheism up their sleeves and bowed the knee 
with grace and dexterity, pulling on long faces and 
praying as visibly as Louis himself. But many 
years passed before the practice of religion ex- 
pressed the feelings of the heart. Richelieu ^ had 
several intimate friends who were openly confessed 
infidels, and proud of their infidelity. While they 
were intellectual and witty and devoted to the 
Cardinal's interests, they were permitted to think 
as they pleased. 

Long after the day of Richelieu, — in the reign 
of Louis XIV., — the great Conde and Princess 

' Le Cardinal de Bdrulle et Richelieu, the Abbe Houssaye. 
^ Les Libertins en France au XVII. Siecle, F. T. Perrens. 



La Grande Mademoiselle . 281 

Anne de Gonzague made vows to the " marvellous 
victories of grace," ^ but while they were "waiting 
for the miracle," the more miscreant of the Court 
amused themselves by throwing a piece of the wood 
of the true cross into the fire " to see whether it 
would burn." 

The current of moral libertinage, though it ap- 
peared sluggish after the Fronde, had not run 
dry, and it was seen in the last third of the seven- 
teenth century and in the following century shal- 
low, but flowing freely.^ 

Whatever the general condition, the city was 
always better fortified against spiritual libertinage 
than the Court, because it contained stronger ele- 
ments, and because it lacked the frivolity of the 
social bodies devoted to pleasure. In the city 
mingled with the higher bourgeoisie and th^ middle 
bourgeoisie were nobles of excellent stock who did 
not visit the Louvre or the Palais Royal because, 
as they had no title or position at Court, they 
could not claim the rank to which their quality 
gave them right ; to cite an instance : Mme. de 
Sevigne was not of the Court; she was always of 
the city. 

Taken altogether, the Parliamentary world, which 
had one foot at Court and the other foot in the 
city, had preserved a great deal of religion and 
morality. Olivier d'Ormesson's journal shows us 
the homes of the serious and intellectual people of 

• Oraison funlbre d^ Anne de Gonzague, Bossuet. 

* Port Royal, Sainte Beuve. 



282 



The Youth of 



the great metropoHtan centres to whom piety and 
gravity had descended from their fathers. 

The Parhamentary world of the provinces was 
notable for its moral attitude and for its love of re- 
ligion. Taken all in all the French bourgeoisie 
had not felt the inroads of free thought, although 
there had been a few cases of visible infiltration. 
In the country districts the people practised re- 
ligion more or less fervently. 

Despite the few exceptions serving as luminous 
points in the universal darkness, in the reign of 
Louis XIII. the situation was well fitted to inspire 
creatures of ardent faith and exalted mysticism 
with horror. There were many such people in 
Paris then, as there have been always. Discour- 
aged, hopeless of finding anything better in a world 
abandoned to blasphemy and vice, the naturally 
pious fled to the cloisters and too often they found 
within the walls of their refuges the same scandals 
that had driven them from their homes. The 
larger number of the monasteries were given over 
to depravity ^ and the monks were like the people 
of the world. As we have seen, a few prelates of 
rare faith and devotion furnished the exceptions to 
the rule, but set, as they were, wide distances apart 
in the swarming mass of vociferous immorality, 
they excited a pity which swallowed up all appre- 
ciation of their importance. 

Divers questions which were not connected either 
with belief as a whole or with the principle of be- 

' B^rulle et POratoire, the Abbe Houssaye. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 283 

lief combined to make the Protestant minority by 
far more moral than the Catholic majority. Per- 
haps the social disadvantage attached to Protest- 
antism was the strongest reason for its superiority. 
When a practically powerless minority is sur- 
rounded and kept under surveillance by a power- 
ful majority, unless pride and vanity have blinded 
its prudence the minority keeps careful watch of its 
actions. By a natural process minorities of agitat- 
ors cast cowardly and selfish members out of their 
ranks ; in other words, they weed out the useless, 
the feeble, the derogatory elements, and the ele- 
ments which, being dependent upon the favour of 
the public, or susceptible to public criticism, flinch 
if subjected to unfavourable judgment. The Protest- 
ant minority eliminated all who, fearing the ridicule 
or the animosity of the Court, shrank from stand- 
ing shoulder to shoulder with the men in the fight- 
ing ranks of Protestantism. Impelled by personal 
interest, the converts to the reform movement went 
back to the Catholic majority. There were so 
many advantages attendant upon the profession of 
Catholicism that with few exceptions the great 
lords declared their faith in the religion powerful 
to endow them with military commands and with 
governmental and other lucrative positions. The 
Protestant ranks were thinned, but the few who 
stood their ground were the picked men of the re- 
form movement. The ranks of the Catholics were 
swelled by the hypocrites and the turncoats who 
had deserted from the army of the Protestants. 



284 The Youth of 

The Protestants gained morally by the defection 
of their converts, and the Catholics lost ; the few 
who sustained Protestantism were sincere; the fact 
of their profession proved it. 

The Protestant pastor had no selfish reason for 
his profession ; he had nothing to hope for ; he was 
lured by no promise of an abbey, nor could he ex- 
pect to be rewarded for his open revolt against the 
King's church. Looking at it in its most illusive 
light, his was a bad business ; there was nothing in 
it to tempt the favourites of the great ; not even a 
lackey could find advantage in appointment to the 
Protestant ministry, and no man entered upon the 
painful life of the Protestant pastor unless forced 
by an all-mastering vocation. The cause of the 
Reformation was safe because it was in the hands of 
men who boasted of " a judge that no king could 
corrupt," and who believed that they had armed 
themselves with "the panoply of God." The pas- 
tors laboured with unfailing zeal, first to kindle the 
spark of a faith separated from all earthly inter- 
ests ; next to nourish sincere belief in God as the 
vital principle of religious life. Under their influ- 
ence the Protestants of the upper middle classes 
and the Protestants of the lower classes — there 
were still fewer of the latter than of the former — 
not only practised, but lived their religion, giving 
an example of good conduct and of intelligent ap- 
preciation of the name and the meaning of their 
profession. Their adversaries were forced to ren- 
der them the homage due to their efforts and their 



La Grande Mademoiselle 285 

sincerity. They, the Protestants, were charitable 
in the true sense of the term ; they loved the breth- 
ren ; they cared for the bodies as well as for the 
souls of the poor ; they proved their love for their 
fellows by guarding the public welfare ; they kept 
the laws and, whenever it was possible, enforced 
them. The pastors knew that they must practise 
what they preached, and, profiting by the examples 
of the ignoble priests, they set a guard upon their 
words and movements, lest their disciples should 
question their sincerity. They were austere, ener- 
getic, and devoted to their people and to their 
cause. They were convinced that they were ward- 
ers of the inheritance of the saints, and they pa- 
trolled their circuit, and went about in the name of 
Christ proclaiming the mercy of God and warning 
men of Eternity and of The Judgment. 

Let us be loyal to our convictions and give to 
those early pastors the credit due to their candour 
and to their efforts ; they surpassed us in many 
ways. They were learned ; they were versed in 
science, kind to strangers, strict in morality, broth- 
erly to the poor. 

Fran9ois de Sales said of them: "The Protest- 
ants were Christians ; Catholicism was not Christ- 

" 1 
lan. ^ 

So matters stood — the churches ruined and 
abandoned. Religion mocked and the priests de- 
spised" — when a little phalanx of devoted men 

• Fortunat Strowski. 

^ Their uselessness, their ignorance have made us despise them, — Bossuet. 



286 The Youth of 

arose to rescue the wrecked body of the French 
Clergy. They organised systematically, but their 
plan of action was independent. Fran9ois de Sales 
was among the first who broke ground for the diffi- 
cult work. He was a calm, cool man, indifferent to 
abuse, firm in the conviction that his power was 
from God. There were many representatives of 
the Church, but few like him. One of his chroni- 
clers dwelt upon his " exalted indifference to insult " 
another, speaking of his " supernatural patience," 
said : 

"A Du Perron could not have stopped short in an 
argument with a heretic, but, on the other hand, a 
Du Perron would not have converted the heretic by 
the ardour of his forbearingr kindness." Strowski 
said of de Sales that he " saw as the wise see, and 
lived among men not as a nominal Christian but as 
a man of God, gifted with omniscience." By living 
in the world de Sales had learned that a germ of 
religion was still alive in many of the abandoned 
souls ; he knew that there were a few who were 
truly Catholic ; he knew that those few were 
cherishing their faith, but he saw that they lived 
isolated lives, away from the world, and he believed 
that the limitations of their spiritual hermitage 
hindered their usefulness. De Sales believed in a 
community of religion and Christian love. The 
few who cherished their religion were a class by 
themselves. They knew and respected each other, 
they theorised abstractly upon the prevailing 
evils, but they had no thought of bettering man's 



La Grande Mademoiselle 287 

condition. Their sorrows had turned their thoughts 
to woful contemplation of their helplessness, and 
all their hopes were straining forward toward the 
peaceful cloister and the silent intimacy of mon- 
achism. For them the uses of life were as a tale 
that is told. They had no thought of public 
service, they were timid, they abhorred sin and 
shrank from sinners, their isolation had developed 
their tendency to mysticism, and the best efforts 
of their minds were concentrated upon hypotheses. 
Pere Fran9ois believed that they and all who 
loved God could do eood work in the world. He 
did not believe in controversy, he did not believe 
in silencing skeptics with overwhelming arguments. 
He used his own means in his own way ; but his 
task was hard and his progress slow, and months 
passed before he was able to form a working plan. 
His idea was to revive religious feeling and spirit- 
ual zeal, to increase the piety of life in community, 
to exemplify the love which teaches man to live at 
peace with his brother, to fulfil his mission as the 
son of man made in the likeness of God, and to act 
his part as an intelligent member of an orderly sol- 
idarity. De Sales's first work was difficult, but not 
long after his mission-house was established he saw 
that his success was sure, and he then appointed 
deputies and began his individual labour for the 
revival of relieious thought. He knew that the 
people loved to reason, and he had resolved to de- 
velop their intelligence and to open their minds to 
Truth : the strong principle of all reform. His 



288 The Youth of 

doubt of the utility of controversy had been con- 
firmed by the spectacle of the recluses of the 
Church. Study had convinced him that theologi- 
ans had taken the wrong road and exaggerated the 
spiritual influence of the " power of piety." He 
believed in the practical piety of Charity, and he 
accepted as his appointed task the awakening of 
Christian love. His impelling force was not the 
bigotry which 

proves religion orthodox 
By apostolic blows and knocks, 

nor was it the contemplative faith which, by living 
in convents, deprives the world of the example of 
its fervour ; it was that practical manifestation of 
the grace of God "which fits the citizen for civil 
life and forms him for the world." 

In the end Pere Fran9ois's religion became 
purely practical and he had but one aim : the awak- 
eninof of the soul. 

His critics talked of his "dreams," his "visions," 
and his " religio-sentimental revival." His piety 
was expressed in the saying : " Religious life is not 
an attitude, nor can the practice of religion save a 
man ; the true life of the Christian springs from a 
change of heart, from the intimate and profound 
transformation of his personality." We know with 
what ardour Pere Fran9ois went forward to his goal, 
manifesting his ideals by his acts. By his words 
and by his writings he worked a revolution in men's 
souls. His success equalled the success of Honore 



La Grande Mademoiselle 289 

d'Urfe ; few books have reached the number of the 
editions of the Intro dtiction a la vie ddvote} 

In Paris de Sales had often visited a young priest 
named Pierre de Berulle, who also was deeply griev- 
ed by the condition of Catholicism, and who was am- 
bitious to work a change in the clergy and in the 
Church. Pere Berulle had discussed the subject 
with Vincent de Paul, de Sales, Bourdoise, and 
other pious friends, and after serious reflection, he 
had determined to undertake the stupendous work 
of reforming the clergy. In 161 1 he founded a 
mission-house called the Oratoire. " The chief 
object of the mission was to put an end to the 
uselessness of so many ecclesiastics." The mission- 
aries began their work cautiously and humbly, but 
their progress was rapid. Less than fifteen months 
after the first Mass was offered upon the altar of 
the new house, the Oratoire was represented by 
fifty branch missions. The brothers of the com- 
pany were seen among all classes ; their aim, like 
the individual aim of Pere Fran9ois, was to make 
the love of God familiar to men by habituating 
man to the love of his brother. They turned aside 
from their path to help wherever they saw need ; 
they nursed the sick, they worked among the com- 
mon people, they lent their strength to the worn- 
out labourer. 

They were as true, as simple, and as earnest as 
the men who walked with the Son of Mary by the 

^ Manuel de Vhistoire de la littdrature frani^aise, F. Brunetiere. 

The first edition of La vie devote appeared in 1608, the Traitd de I'amou?' 

de Dieu appeared in 16 12. 
19 



290 The Youth of 

Lake of Galilee, Bound by no tie but Christian 
Charity, free to act their will, they manifested 
their faith by their piety, and it was impossible to 
deny the beneficence of their example. From the 
mother-house they set out for all parts of France, 
exhorting, imploring the dissolute to forsake their 
sin, and proclaiming the love of Christ. The Pro- 
testants were making a strong point of the wrath 
of God ; the Oratorians talked of God's mercy. 
They passed from province to province, they 
searched the streets and the lanes of the cities, they 
laboured with the labourers, they feasted with the 
bourgeois. Dispensing brotherly sympathy, they 
entered the homes of the poor as familiar friends, 
confessing the adults, catechising the children, and 
restoring religion to those who had lost it or for- 
gotten it. They demanded hospitality in the pro- 
vincial presbyteries, aroused the slothful priests to 
repentant action, and, raising the standard of the 
Faith before all eyes, they pointed men to Eternal 
Life and lifted the fallen brethren from the mire. 

Shoulder to shoulder with the three chevaliers of 
the Faith, de Sales, de Berulle, and Pere Vincent, 
was the stern Saint Cyran (Jean Duvergier de 
Hauranne) who lent to the assistance of the Ora- 
torians the powerful influence of his magnetic 
fervour. The impassioned eloquence of the author 
of Lettres Chrdtiennes et Spirituelles was awe-in- 
spiring. The members of the famous convent 
(Port Royal des Champs) were equally devoted ; 
their fervour was gentler, but always grave and 



La Grande Mademoiselle 291 

salutary. Saint Cyran's characteristics were well 
defined in Joubert's Pens^e. 

The Jansenists carried into their religious life more depth 
of thought and more reflection ; they were more firmly bound 
by religion's sacred liens ; there was an austerity in their 
ideas and in their minds, and that austerity incessantly cir- 
cumscribed their will by the limitations of duty. 

They were pervaded, even to their mental habit, 
by their uncompromising conception of divine just- 
ice ; their inclinations were antipathetic to the lusts 
of the flesh. The companions of the community of 
Port Royal were as pure in heart as the Oratorians, 
but they were childlike in their simplicity ; they de- 
lighted in the beauties of nature and in the soci- 
ety of their friends ; they indulged their humanity 
whenever such indulgence accorded with their voca- 
tion ; they permitted " the fetes of Christian love," 
to which we of the present look back in fancy as to 
visions of the first days of the early Church. Jules 
Lemaitre said in his address at Port Royal •} 

Port Royal is one of the most august of all the awe-in- 
spiring refuges of the spiritual life of France. It is holy 
ground; for in this vale was nourished the most ardent inner 
life of the nation's Church. Here prayed and meditated 
the most profound of thinkers, the souls most self-contained 
most self-dependent, most absorbed by the mystery of man's 
eternal destiny. None caught in the whirlpool of earthly life 
ever seemed more convinced of the powerlessness of human 
liberty to arrest the evolution of the inexorable Plan, and yet 
none ever manifested firmer will to battle and to endure than 
those first heralds of the resurrection of Catholicism. 

' The address delivered on the occasion of Racine's Centennial, 26th 
April 1899. 



292 The Youth of 

Fran9oIs de Sales loved the convent of Port Royal; 
he called it his "place of dear delight"! In its 
shaded cloisters de Berulle, Pere Vincent, and Saint 
Cyran laboured together to purify the Church, until 
the time came when the closest friends were sepa- 
rated by dogmatic differences ; and even then the 
tempest that wrecked Port Royal could not sweep 
away the memory of the peaceful days when the four 
friends lent their united efforts to the work which gave 
the decisive impulsion to the Catholic Renaissance. 

Whenever the Church established religious com- 
munities, men were called to direct them from all 
the branches of de Berulle's Oratoire, because it 
was generally known that the Oratorians inspired 
the labourers of the Faith with religious ardour, and 
in time the theological knowledge gained in the 
Oratoire and in its branches was considered essen- 
tial to the true spiritual establishment of the priest. 
Men about to enter the service of the Church went 
to the Oratoire to learn how to dispense the sacra- 
mental lessons with proper understanding of their 
meaning; new faces were continually appearing, 
then vanishing aglow with celestial fire. Once 
when an Oratorian complained that too many of 
their body were leaving Paris, de Berulle answered : 
" I thank God for it ! This congregation was estab- 
lished for nothing else ; its mission is to furnish 
worthy ministers and workmen fitted for the service 
of the Church." 

De Berulle knew that, were he to give all the 
members of his community, their number would be 




ST. VINCENT DE PAUL 

FROM A STEEL ENGRAVING 



La Grande Mademoiselle 293 

too feeble to regenerate the vast and vitiated body 
of the French clergy. He could not hope to reap 
the harvest, but he counted it as glory to be per- 
mitted to sow the seed. 

Vincent de Paul was the third collaborator of the 
company. It was said of him that he was " created 
to fill men's minds with love of spiritual things and 
with love for the Creator." Pere Vincent was a 
simple countryman. In appearance he resembled 
the disciples of Christ, as represented in ancient 
pictures. His rugged features rose above a faded 
and patched soutane, but his face expressed such 
kindness and such sympathy that, like his heavenly 
Ensample, he drew men after him. Bernard of 
Cluny deplored the evil days ; but the time of Louis 
XIII. was worse than the time of Bernard. The 
mercy proclaimed by the Gospel had been effaced 
from the minds of men, and the Charity of God had 
been dishonoured even by the guides sent to make 
it manifest. Mercy and Charity incarnate entered 
France with Pere Vincent, and childlike fondness 
and gentle patience crept back into human relations 
— not rapidly — the influences against them were 
too strong — but steadily and surely. Pere Vincent 
was amusing ; it was said of him that he was " like 
no one else "; the courtiers first watched and ridi- 
culed, then imitated him. When they saw him lift 
the fallen and attach importance to the sufferings 
of the common people, and when they heard him 
insist that criminals were men and that they had a 
right to demand the treatment due to men, they 



294 The Youth of 

shrugged their shoulders, but they knew that 
through the influence of the simple peasant-priest 
something unknown and very sweet had entered 
France. 

Vincent de Paul was a worker. He founded 
the Order of the Sisters of Charity, the Convicts' 
Mission-Refuge, a refuge for the unfortunate, the 
Foundling Hospital, and a great general hospital 
and asylum where twenty thousand men and wo- 
men were lodged and nourished. To the people 
of France Pere Vincent was a man apart from all 
others, the impersonation of human love and the 
manifestation of God's mercy. By the force of his 
example pity penetrated and pervaded a society in 
which pity had been unknown, or if known, de- 
spised. The people whose past life had prepared 
them for anything but good works sprang with ar- 
dour upon the road opened by the gentle saint who 
had taught France the way of mercy. Even the 
great essayed to be like Pere Vincent ; every one, 
high and low, each in his own way and to the ex- 
tent of his power, followed the unique example. 
Saint Vincent became the national standard ; the 
nobles pressed forward in his footsteps, concerning 
themselves with the sick and the poor and trying 
to do the work of priests. They laboured earnestly 
lavishing their money and their time, and, fired by 
the strength of their purpose, they came to love 
their duty better than they had loved their pleas- 
ure. They imitated the Oratorians as closely as 
they had imitated the shepherds of As tree, and " the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 295 

monsters of the will," Indifference, Infidelity, and 
Licence, hid their heads for a time, and Charity be- 
came the fashion of the day. 

Pere Vincent's religious zeal equalled his broth- 
erly tenderness ; he was de Berulle's best ally. A 
special community, under his direction, assisted in 
the labours of the Oratoire. The chief purpose of 
the mother-house and its branches was the purifi- 
cation of the priesthood and the increase of religion. 
When a young priest was ready to be ordained 
he was sent to Pere Vincent's mission, where, by 
means of systematic retreats, he received the deep 
impression of the spiritual devotion and the charity 
peculiar to the Oratorians. 

Bossuet remembered with profound gratitude the 
retreats that he made in Pere Vincent's Oratoire. 
But there was one at Court to whom the piety of 
Pere Vincent was a thorn in the flesh. We have 
seen that de Berulle's work was the purification of 
the clergy, and that Pere Vincent was de Berulle's 
chief ally. Mazarin was the Queen's guardian, and 
the Queen held the list of ecclesiastical appointments. 
A Council called the Conseil de Conscience had been 
instituted to Qruide the Reofent in her " Collation of 
Benefices." The nominees were subject to the ap- 
probation of the Council. When their names were 
read the points in their favour and against them 
were discussed. In this Conseil de Co7iscience Pere 
Vincent confronted Mazarin ten years. Before 
Pere Vincent appeared men were appointed abbots 
regardless of their characters. Chantelauze says 



296 The Youth of 

in Saint Vincent de Paul et les Gondis that "Maza- 
rin raised Simony to honour." The Cardinal gave 
the benefices to people whom he was sure of : peo- 
ple who were willing to devote themselves, body 
and soul, to his purposes. Pere Vincent had 
awakened the minds of many influential prelates, 
and a few men and women prominent at Court 
had been aroused to a sense of the condition of the 
Church. These few priests and laymen were called 
the " Saints' Party." 

They sat in the Council convened for the 
avowed purpose of purifying the Church. When 
Mazarin made an ignoble appointment, Pere Vin- 
cent objected, and the influential prelates and 
the others of their party echoed his objections. 
Through the energy of the " Saints," as they were 
flippantly called by the courtiers, many scandalous 
appointments were prevented, and gradually the 
church positions were filled by sincere and devoted 
men. The determined and earnest objections of 
so many undeniably disinterested, well-known, and 
unimpeachable people aroused the superstitious 
scruples of the Queen, and when her scruples were 
aroused, she was obstinate. Mazarin knew this. 
He knew that Anne of Austria was a peculiar wo- 
man, he knew that she had been a Queen before he 
had had any hold upon her, and he knew that he 
had not been her first favourite. He was quick, 
keen-sighted, flexible. He was cautious. He had 
no intention of chanorinor the sustained coo of his 
turtle-dove for the shrill " Tais-toi ! " of the Regent 



La Grande Mademoiselle 297 

of France. But he was not comfortable. His 
little diaries contain many allusions to the distress 
caused by his inability to digest the interference of 
the " Saints." He looked forward to the time 
when he should be so strong that it would be safe 
for him to take steps to free himself from the 
obsessions of the Conseil de Conscience. He was 
amiable and indulgent in his intercourse with all 
the cabals and with all the conflicting agitations ; 
he studied motives and forestalled results ; he 
brought down his own larks with the mirrors of 
his enemies. He had a thousand different ways of 
working out the same aims. He did nothing to 
actively offend, but there was a persistence in his 
gentle tenacity which exasperated men like Conde 
and disheartened the frank soldiers of the Faith of 
the mission of Port Royal and the Oratoire. He 
foresaw a time when he could dispose of benefices 
and of all else. A few years later the Conseil de 
Co7iscience was abolished, and Pere Vincent was 
ignominiously vanquished. Pere Vincent lacked 
the requisites of the courtier ; he was artless, and 
straightforward, and intriguers found it easy to 
make him appear ridiculous in the eyes of the 
Queen. ^ Mazarin watched his moment, and when 
he was sure that Anne of Austria could not refuse 
him anything, he drew the table of benefices from 
her hand. From that time " pick and choose " was 
,the order of the day. "Monsieur le Cardinal" 
visited the appointments secretly, and secured the 

' Motteville. 



298 The Youth of 

lion's share for himself. When he had made his 
choice, the men who offered him the highest bids 
received what he had rejected. In later years 
Mazarin was, by his own appointment, Archbishop 
of Metz and the possessor of thirty fat benefices. 
His revenues were considerable. 

Nowhere did the Oratorians meet as determined 
opposition as at Court. The courtiers had gone 
to Mass because they lost the King's favour if they 
did not go to Mass, but to be inclined to skepticism 
was generally regarded as a token of elegance. 
Men thought that they were evincing superior cul- 
ture when they braved God, the Devil, and the 
King, at one and the same time, by committing a 
thousand blasphemies. Despite the pressure of 
the new ideas, the " Saints' Party " had been diffi- 
cult to organise. It was a short-lived party because 
Mazarin was not a man to tolerate rivals who 
were liable to develop power enough to counteract 
his influence over Anne of Austria concerning 
subjects even more vital than the distribution of 
the benefices. The petty annoyances to which the 
Prime Minister subjected the " Saints' Party" con- 
vinced people that when a man was of the Court, 
if he felt the indubitable touch of the finger of 
Grace, the only way open to him was the road to 
the cloister. It was known that wasps sting, and 
that they are not meet adversaries for the sons of 
God, and the wasps were there in swarms. Fran- 
9ois de Sales called the constantly recurring annoy- 
ances, "that mass of wasps." As there was no 



Lsc Grande Mademoiselle 299 

hope of relief in sight, it was generally supposed 
that the most prudent and the wisest course for 
labourers in the vineyard of the Lord was to enter 
the hive and take their places in the cells, among 
the manufacturers of honey. So when La Grande 
Mademoiselle looked upon the convent as her 
natural destination, she was carrying out the prev- 
alent idea that retreat from the world was the na- 
tural result of conversion to true religion. It was 
well for her and for the convent which she had 
decided to honour with her presence that just at 
the moment when she laid her plans her father had 
one of his rare attacks of common sense — yes, 
well for her and well for the convent ! 

IV 

Mademoiselle's crisis covered a period of six 
months ; when she reappeared patches adorned 
her face and powder glistened in her hair. She 
said of her awakening : " I recovered my taste for 
diversions, and I attended the play and other amuse- 
ments with pleasure, but my worldly life did not 
obliterate the memory of my longings ; the exces- 
sive austerity to which I had reduced myself was 
modified, but I could not forget the aspirations 
which I had supposed would lead me to the Car- 
melites ! " Not long after she emerged from her 
religious retreat politics called her from her frivol- 
ity. Political life was the arena at that hour, and 
it is not probable that the most radical of the femi- 
nistic codes of the future will restore the power 



300 The Youth of 

which women then possessed by force of their de- 
termined gallantry, their courage, their vivacity, 
their beauty, and their coquetry. The women of 
the future will lack such power because their rights 
will be conferred by laws ; legal rights are of small 
importance compared to rights conferred and con- 
firmed by custom. The women of Mademoiselle's 
day ordered the march of war, led armies, dictated 
the terms of peace, curbed the will of statesmen, 
and signed treaties with kings, not because they 
had a right to do so, but because they possessed 
invincible force. Richelieu, who had a species of 
force of his own, and at times wielded it to their 
temporary detriment, planned his moves with def- 
erence to their tactics, and openly deplored their 
importance. Mazarin, who dreaded women, wrote 
to Don Luis del Haro: " We have three such 
amazons right here in France, and they are fully 
competent to rule three great kingdoms ; they are 
the Duchesse de Longueville, the Princesse Pala- 
tine, and the Duchesse de Chevreuse." The Duch- 
esse de Chevreuse, having been born in the early 
century, was the veteran of the trio. " She had a 
strong mind," said Richelieu,^ " and powerful beauty, 
which, as she knew well how to use it, she never 
lowered by any disgraceful concessions. Her 
mind was always well balanced." 

Retz completed the portrait : " She loved without 
any choice of objects for the simple reason that it 
was necessary for her to love some one ; and when 

^ Memoires. 




DUCHESSE DE CHEVREUSE 



La Grande Mademoiselle 301 

once the plan was laid it was not difficult to give 
her a lover. But from the moment when she began 
to love her lover, she loved him faithfully, — and 
she loved no one else." She was witty, spirited, 
and of a very vigorous mind. Some of her ideas 
were so brilliant that they were like flashes of 
lightning ; and some of them were so wise and so 
profound that the wisest men known to history 
might have been proud to claim them. Rare 
genius and keen wits which she had trained to in- 
trigue from early youth had made her one of the 
most dangerous politicians in France. She had 
been an intimate friend of Anne of Austria, and 
the chief architect of the Chalais conspiracy. After 
the exposure of the conspiracy, Richelieu sentenced 
her to banishment for a term of twenty-five years, 
and no old political war-horse could have taken re- 
venge sterner than hers. She did not rest on her 
wrongs ; her entrance upon foreign territory was 
marked by the awakening of all the foreign ani- 
mosities. Alone and single-handed, the unique 
Duchess formed a league against France, and when 
events reached a crisis she had attained such im- 
portance in the minds of the allies that England, 
though vanquished and suing for peace, made it a 
condition of her surrender that the Duchesse de 
Chevreuse, " a woman for whom the King of Eng- 
land entertained a particular esteem," should be 
recalled to France. Richelieu yielded the point 
instantly ; he was too wise to invest it with the im- 
portance of a parley ; he recalled the woman who 



302 The Youth of 

had convened a foreign league against her own 
people, and eliminated the banishment of powerful 
women from his list of penalties. He had learned 
an important political lesson ; thereafter the pre- 
sence of the Duchesse de Chevreuse was considered 
in high diplomatic circles the one thing needful for 
the even balance of the State of France. After 
the Spanish intrigue, which ended in Val de Grice, 
the Cardinal, fearing another "league," made 
efforts to keep the versatile Duchess under his 
hand, but she slipped through his fingers and was 
seen all over France actively pursuing her own 
peculiar business. (1637.) 

The Duchesse de Chevreuse once traversed 
France on horseback, disguised as a man, and she 
used to say that nothing had ever amused her as 
well as that journey. She must have been a judge 
of amusements, as she had tried them all. When 
she ran away disguised as a man, her husband and 
Richelieu both ran after her, to implore her to re- 
main in France, and, in her efforts to escape her 
pursuers, she was forced to hide in many strange 
places, and to resort to stratagems of all kinds. In 
one place where she passed the night, her hostess, 
considering her a handsome boy, made her a declara- 
tion of love. Her guides, deceived by her appear- 
ance gave her a fair idea of the manners worn by 
a certain class of men when they think that they 
are among men and free from the constraint of 
woman's presence. On her journeys through Eu- 
rope, she slept one night or more in a barn, on a 



La Grande Mademoiselle 3^3 

pile of straw, the next night in a field, under a 
hedee. or in one of the vast beds in which our fath- 
ers bedded a dozen persons at once without regard 
to their circumstances. Alone, or in close quarters, 
the Duchesse de Chevreuse maintained her iden- 
tity. Hers was a resolute spirit ; she kept her own 
counsel, and she feared neither man nor devil. 
Thus, in boys' clothes, in company with cavaliers 
who lisped the language of the Prdcieuses, or with 
troopers from whose mouths rushed the fat oaths 
of the Cossacks, sleeping now on straw and now 
with a dozen strangers, drunk and sober, she 
crossed the Pyrenees and reached Madrid, where 
she turned the head of the King of Spain and 
passed on to London, where she was feted as a 
powerful ally, and where, incidentally, she became 
the chief official agent of the enemies of Richelieu. 
When Louis XIII. was dying he rallied long 
enough to enjoin the Duchesse de Chevreuse from 
entering France.^ Standing upon the brink of 
Eternity, he remembered the traitress whom he had 
not seen in ten years. The Duchesse de Chev- 
reuse was informed of his commands, and, knowing 
him to be in the agonies of death, she placed her 
political schemes in the hands of agents and hurried 
back to France to condole with the widow and to 
assume the control of the French nation as the dep- 
uty of Anne of Austria. She entered the Louvre 
June 14, 1643, thinking that the ten years which had 
passed since she had last seen her old confidante 

' Declaration pour la Rdgence (21st April, 1643). 



304 The Youth of 

had made as Httle change in the Queen as in her 
own bright eyes. She found two children at play 
together, — young Louis XIV. and little Monsieur, 
a tall proud girl with ash-blonde hair : La Grande 
Mademoiselle, and a mature and matronly Regent 
who blushed when she saluted her. One month to 
a day had passed since Louis XI I L had yielded up 
the ghost. 

The Duchesse de Chevreuse installed herself 
in Paris in her old quarters and bent her energies 
to the task of dethroning Mazarin. 

The Palatine Princess, Anne de Gonzague, was 
a ravishingly beautiful woman endowed with great 
executive ability. " I do not think," said Retz, " that 
Elizabeth of England had more capacity for con- 
ducting a State." Anne de Gonzague did not begin 
her career by politics. When, as a young girl, she^ 
appeared in the world of the Court, she astonished 
France by the number and by the piquancy of her 
adventures. She was another of the exalted dames 
who ran upon the highways disguised as cavaliers or 
as monks. No one was surprised no matter when 
or where he saw Anne de Gonzague, though she 
was often met far beyond the limits of polite so- 
ciety. Fancy alone — and their own sweet will — 
ruled the fair ladies of those heroic days. During 
five whole years Anne de Gonzague^ gave the 
world to understand that she was " Mme. de Guise, 
wife of Henri de Guise, Archbishop of Rheims" 

' Born in 1616. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 305 

(the same Henri de Guise who afterward married 
Mme. de Bossut). 

Having passed for "Mme. de Guise" sixty 
months, the Lady Anne appeared at Court under 
her own name " as if nothing had happened," re- 
ported Mademoiselle. Whatever may have here 
"happened," Anne de Gonzague reappeared at 
Court as alluring as in the flower of her first youth ; 
and, as the Chronicle expressed it : " had the talent 
to marry herself — between two affairs of womanly 
gallantry — to the Prince Palatine,^ one of the most 
rabidly jealous of gentlemen," because, as the pious 
and truthful Bossuet justly remarked, " everything 
gave way before the secret charm of her conver- 
sation." When nearly thirty years of age she 
obeyed the instincts of her genius and engaged in 
politics, with other politically inclined ladies, includ- 
ing Mme. de Longueville, whose only talent lay in 
her blonde hair and charming eyes. 

Despite the poverty of her mental resources, 
Mme. de Longueville was a natural director of men, 
and she was but one of a very brilliant coterie. 
The prominent and fiery amazons of the politics of 
that epoch are too historically known to require 
detailed mention. They were : the haughty, daz- 
zlingly superb, but too vicious and too practical in 
vice, Montbazon ; the Duchesse de Chatillon (the 
imperious beauty who had her hand painted upon 
a painted lion whose face was the face of the great 

' Edouard, Prince Palatine, a younger son of the Elector Palatine, 
Frederic V. 



3o6 The Youth of 

Conde), and many others who to the measure of 
their ability played with the honour and the lives of 
men, with Universal Suffrage, and with the stability 
of France, and who, like La Grande Mademoiselle, 
were called from their revelries by the dangers which 
threatened them. 

The daughter of Gaston d' Orleans had grown up 
firmly convinced that the younger branch of the 
House of Paris (her own branch) could do anything. 
That had been the lesson taught for more than a 
century of history. From Charles VIII. to Louis 
XIII. the throne had been transmitted from father 
to son but three times; in all other cases it had 
passed to brothers or to cousins. The collaterals 
of the royal family had become accustomed to 
think of themselves as very near the throne, and 
at times that habit of thought had been detrimental 
to the country. Before the birth of Louis XIV. 
Gaston d'Orleans had touched the crown with the 
tips of his fingers, and he had made use of his title 
as heir-presumptive to work out some very unsavoury 
ends. After the birth of his nephews he had lived 
in a dream of possible results ; he had waited to see 
what " his star " would bring him, and his hopes had 
blazed amone their ashes at the first hint of the 
possibility of a change. When Louis XIV. was 
nine years old he was very sick and his doctors 
expected him to die ; he had the smallpox. Mon- 
sieur was jubilant : he exhibited his joy publicly, 
and the courtiers drank to the health of " Gaston 
I." Olivier d' Ormesson stated that the courtiers 



La Grande Mademoiselle 307 

distributed all the offices in the King's gift and 
planned to dispose of the King's brother. Anne 
of Austria, agonising in prayer for the life of the 
King, was horrified to learn that a plot was on foot 
to abduct little Monsieur. She was warned that 
the child was to be stolen some time in the nio-ht 
between Saturday and Sunday. Marechal de 
Schomberg passed that night on his horse, ac- 
companied by armed men who watched all the win- 
dows and doors of the palace. When the King 
recovered Monsieur apologised for his conduct, and 
the sponge of the royal forgiveness was passed 
over that episode as it had been over many others. 
Under the Regency of Anne of Austria the Court 
was called upon to resist the second junior branch, 
whose inferiority of pretensions was more than bal- 
anced by its intelligence and audacity. 

The pretensions of the Condes had been the 
cause of one of Mazarin's first anxieties. They 
were vast pretensions, they were unquestionably 
just, and they were ably sustained by the father of 
the great Conde, " Monsieur le Prince," a superior 
personage whose appearance belied his character. 
People of his own age remembered him as a hand- 
some man ; but debauchery, avarice, and self- 
neglect had changed the distinguished courtier and 
made him a repulsive old man, " dirty and ugly." ^ 
He was stoop-shouldered and wrinkled, with great, 
red eyes, and long, greasy hair, which he wore 
passed around his ears in " love-locks." His aspect 

' Motteville. 



3o8 The Youth of 

was formidable. Richelieu was obliged to warn 
him that he must make a serious attempt to cleanse 
his person, and that he must change his shoes be- 
fore paying his visits to the King. ^ His spirit was 
as sordid as his body. " Monsieur le Prince " was 
of very doubtful humour ; he was dogged, snap- 
pish, peevish, coarse, contrary^ and thoroughly ra- 
pacious. He had begun life with ten thousand livres 
of income, and he had acquired a million, not count- 
ing his appointments or his revenues from the gov- 
ernment. ^ His friends clutched their pockets when' 
they saw him coming ; but their precautions were 
futile; he had a way of getting all that he desired. 
Everything went into his purse and nothing came 
out of it ; but where his purse was not concerned 
Monsieur le Prince was a different man ; there he 
" loved justice and followed that which was good." ^ 
He was a rigorous statesman ; he defended the 
national Treasury against the world. His keen 
sense of equity made him a precious counsellor and 
he was an eminent and upright judge. His know- 
ledge of the institutions of the kingdom made him 
valuable as State's reference ; he knew the origins, 
the systems, and the supposititious issues of the 
secret aims of all the parties. 

The laws of France were as chaotic as the situation 
of the parties, and no one but a finished statesman 
could find his way among them ; but to Monsieur le 
Prince they were familiar ground. Considerable as 

' Due d' Aumale's Histoire des princes de Cond^. 
^ Among other emoluments he had 800,000 livres. 
' M^tnoires of Lenet. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 309 

were his attainments, his children were his equals. 
Mme. de Longueville, though shallow, was as keen 
a diplomat as her father, and by far more dangerous ; 
the Due d'Enghien was an astute and accomplished 
politician. The world considered the Condes as 
important as the d'Orleans', and fully able to meet 
the d'Orleans' on the super-sacred footing of eti- 
quette. We shall see to what the equality of the 
two families conducted them. Struggles between 
them were always imminent ; their quarrels arose 
from the exigencies of symbolical details : the 
manner of the laying of a carpet, the bearing of 
the train of a State robe, et cetera. Such details 
seem insignificant to us, but that they do so is 
because we have lost the habit of monarchical tradi- 
tions. When thinofs are done accordino; to hier- 
archical custom, details are very important. At every 
session of the King's Council " peckotings " passed 
between Gaston d'Orleans and Monsieur le Prince 
and an attentive gallery looked on and listened. 
But something of sterner stuff than "peckotings" 
was the order of the day when the Court met for 
a ceremonious function ; material battles marked 
the meetings between Mile, de Montpensier and 
Mme. la Princesse de Conde ; Mme. de Longue- 
ville was brave, and La Grande Mademoiselle was 
not only brave, but fully determined to justify her 
title and defend her honour as the Granddaughter 
of France. The two princely ladies entered the 
lists with the same ardour, and they were as heroic 
as they were burlesque. The 5th December the 



3IO The Youth of 

Court was scheduled to attend a solemn Mass at 
Notre Dame, and by the law of precedence Made- 
moiselle was to be followed by Mme. la Princesse, 
de Conde. The latter summoned her physician 
who bled her in order to enable her to be physi- 
cally incapable of taking her place behind Made- 
moiselle. Gossips told Anne-Marie-Louise of her 
cousin's stratagem, and Mademoiselle resorted to 
an equally efficient, though entirely different, means 
of medical art calculated to make bodily motion 
temporarily undesirable, if not impossible. Made- 
moiselle was determined that she would not humili- 
ate her quality by appearing at Mass without her 
attendant satellite (Saint Simon would have ap- 
plauded the sufferings of both of the heroic ladies, 
for like them he had been gifted by nature with a 
subtle appreciation of the duties and the privileges 
of rank), but the incident was not closed. By a 
strange fatality, at that instant Church came in con- 
flict with State. Cardinal Mazarin, representing 
the Church, inspired Queen Anne to resent her 
niece's indisposition. The Queen became very 
angry at Mademoiselle, and impelled by her anger, 
Monsieur commanded his daughter to set out im- 
mediately for Notre Dame ; he told her rudely 
that if she was too sick to walk, she had plenty of 
people to carry her. " You will either go or be 
carried ! " he cried violently, and Mademoiselle, 
much the worse for her stratagem, was forced to 
yield. She deplored her fate, and wept because 
she had lost her father's sympathy. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 31 1 

The reciprocal acidity of the junior branches 
was constantly manifested by fatalities like the 
event just noted, and by episodes like the affair of 
"the fallen letters" (August, 1643). Although all 
the writers of that day believed that the reaction 
of that puerile matter was felt in the Fronde, the 
quarrel, like all the other quarrels, was of so sense- 
less a character that it awakened the shame of 
the nation. The story is soon told : Mme. de 
Montbazon picked up — no one knew where — 
some love letters in which, as she said, she recog- 
nised the writing of Mme. de Longueville. Her 
story was false, and Anne of Austria, who frowned 
upon the gossip and the jealousies of the Court, 
condemned Mme. Montbazon to go to the Hotel 
de Conde and make apologies for the wrong that 
she had done the Princess. All the friends of the 
House of Conde were expected to be present to 
hear and to witness the vindication of Mme. la 
Princesse. 

Monsieur was there [wrote Mademoiselle], and for my 
part I could not stay away. I had no friendship for Mme. 
la Princesse, or for any of her friends, but on that occasion I 
/could not have taken a part contrary to hers with decorum; 
to be present there was one of the duties of relationship which 
one cannot neglect. 

On that occasion the relatives of the family were 
all In the Hotel de Conde, but their hearts were 
not In their protestations, and the Condes were 
not deceived. The petty scandal of the letters fed 
the flame of enmity, which Mazarin watched and 



312 The Youth of 

nourished because he knew that it was to his interest 
and to the interest of the State to foment the quarrel 
between the rival cousins. An anonymous collec- 
tion of " memoirs " says : 

Seeing that he was pressed from all sides, the Cardinal 
thought that the safety of his position required him to keep 
the House of Orleans separate from the House of Bour- 
bon, so that by balancing one by the other he could remain 
firmly poised between the two and make himself equally neces- 
sary to both. It was as if Heaven itself had dropped the 
affair of the fallen letters into his hands, and he turned his 
celestial windfall to such account that the Luxembourg and the 
Hotel de Bourbon found it difficult to maintain a decent com- 
posure; at heart they were at daggers' points. The Due 
d'Orleans and the Due d'Enghien were regarded as the chiefs 
of the two hostile parties, and the courtiers rallied to the side 
of either as their interests or their inclinations led them ! ' 

Apparently Mazarin's position was impregnable. 
The world would have been blind had it failed to 
see that the arguments used by the Prime Minister 
when he conferred with his sovereign were of a 
character essentially differing from the arguments 
generally used by politicians, but it was believed 
that the Cardinal's method was well fitted to his 
purpose, and that to any woman — and particularly 
to a woman who had passed maturity — it would 
be, by force of nature, more acceptable and more 
weighty than the abstract method of a purely polit- 
ical economist, and more convincing than the rea- 
sons given by statesmen, — or, in fact, any reason. 

' Manuscript Memoires published in fragments with Olivier d'Ormesson's 
Journal, by M. Chervel (who appears to have been a member of the House 
of Conde). 



La Grande Mademoiselle 313 

Anne of Austria had not been a widow four 
months when Olivier d'Ormesson noted, in his jour- 
nal, that the Cardinal "was recognised as the All- 
Powerful," For his sake the Queen committed 
the imprudences of a love-sick schoolgirl. She 
began by receiving his visits in the evening. The 
doors were left open, and the Queen said that the 
Cardinal visited her for the purpose of giving her 
instructions regarding the business of the State. 
As time went on the Cardinal's visits lengthened ; 
after a certain time the doors were closed, and, to 
the scandal of the Court, they remained closed. At 
Rueil the Queen tried to make Mazarin sit with 
her in her little garden carriage. Mazarin " had 
the wisdom to resist her wish, but he had the folly 
to accompany her with his hat upon his head." As 
no one ever approached the Queen with head 
covered, the spectacle of the behatted minister as- 
tonished the public. (September, 1644.) A few 
weeks later every one in Paris knew that an 
apartment or suite of rooms in the Palais Royal, 
was being repaired, and that it was to be connected 
with the Queen's apartments by a secret passage. 
The public learned gradually, detail by detail, that 
Mazarin was to occupy the repaired apartment, 
and that the secret passage had been prepared so 
that the Prime Minister might " proceed commo- 
diously " to the royal apartments to hold political 
conferences with the Queen. When everything 
was ready, the Gazette (19th November) pub- 
lished the following announcement : 



314- The Youth of 

The Queen in full Council made it plain that, considering 
the indisposition of Cardinal Mazarin, and considering that 
he is forced, with great difficulty, to cross the whole length of 
the great garden of the Palais Royal,' and considering that 
some new business is constantly presenting itself to him, and 
demanding to be communicated to the Queen, the Queen 
deems it appropriate to give the Cardinal an apartment in the 
Palais Royal, so that she may confer with him more conven- 
iently concerning her business. Her Majesty's intention has 
been approved by Messieurs, her ministers, and with applause, 
so that next Monday (21st November), his Eminence will 
take possession of his new residence. 

The Queen's indiscretion won the heart of the 
favourite, and he longed for her presence. Twice, 
once at Rueil and once at Fontainebleau, he dis- 
placed La Grande Mademoiselle and installed him- 
self in her room at the Queen's house. The first 
time that Mazarin supplanted Mademoiselle, the 
haughty Princess swallowed the affront and found 
a lodging in the village, but the second time she 
lost her patience. " It is rumoured in Paris," wrote 
d'Ormesson, " that Mademoiselle spoke to the 
Queen boldly, because the Cardinal wished to take 
her room in order to be near her Majesty." (Sep- 
tember, 1645.) 

Some historians have inferred that the Queen 
had been secretly married to her Minister. We 
have no proof of any such thing, unless we accept 
as proof the very ambiguous letter which the Car- 
dinal wrote to the Queen when he was in exile. 
In that letter he spoke of people who tried to in- 

• Mazarin lived in a palace which became the Bibliotheque Nationale. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 315 

jure him in the Queen's mind. " They will gain 
nothing by it," wrote Mazarin ; ''the heart of the 
Queen and the heart of Mazarin are joined^ by 
liens which cannot be broken either by time or by 
any effort, — as you yourself have agreed with me 
more than once." In the same letter he implores 
the Queen to pity him: "for I deserve pity! it is 
so strange for this child to be married, then, at 
the same time, separated from . . . and always 
pursued by them to whom I am indebted for the 
obstacles to my marriage." (27th October, 165 1.) 
These words are of obscure meaning, and they 
may as easily be interpreted figuratively as liter- 
ally. They who believed that the Queen had 
married Mazarin secretly must have drawn their 
conclusions from the intimate fondness of her man- 
ner. Anne of Austria was infatuated, and her 
infatuation made it impossible for her to guard her 
conduct ; her behaviour betrayed the irregularity 
of the situation, and it is probable that her friends 
were loth to believe that anything less than mar- 
riage could induce such familiarity. However that 
may have been, Mazarin's letters give no proof 
of marriage, nor has it ever been proved that he 
claimed that he had married the Queen. 

When judgment is rendered according to evi- 
dence deduced from personal manners, changes in 
time and in the differences of localities should be 

' In Mazarin's letters the words in italics are either in cipher or in 
words which he had agreed upon with the Queen when arranging the 
details of his absence ; in this instance we have used the translation given 
by M. Ravenel in his Lettres des Cardinal Mazarin a la Reine, etc. 



3i6 The Youth of 

considered. Our consideration of the Queen's ro- 
mance dates from the period of the legitimate, or 
illegitimate, honeymoon. (August, 1643, or within 
six weeks of that time.) 

The public watched the royal romance with irri- 
tation. Having greeted the Mazarin ministry with 
a good grace, they (the people) were unanimously 
seized by a feeling of shame and hatred for the 
handsome Italian who made use of woman's favour 
to attain success. The friends of the Queen re- 
doubled their warnings, and retired from the royal 
presence in disgrace. One of her oldest servitors, 
who had given unquestionable proof of his devo- 
tion,^ dared to tell her to her face that "all the 
world was talking about her and about his Emi- 
nence, and in a way which ought to make her reflect 
upon her position." ..." She asked me," said 
La Porte, * Who said that ? ' I answered, ' Every- 
body ! it is so common that no one talks of any- 
thing else.' She reddened and became angry." ^ 
Mme. de Brienne, wife of the Secretary of State, 
who had spoken to the Queen on the same sub- 
ject, told her friends that " More than once the 
Queen had blushed to the whites of her eyes.'"^ 
Every one wrote to the Queen ; she found anony- 
mous letters even in her bed. When she went 
through the streets she heard people humming 
songs whose meaning she knew only too well. 
Her piety and her maternity had endeared her 
to the common people, and they, the people, had 

' La Porte. ' Mmioires of La Porte. ^ Me'fnoires of de Brienne, junior. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 3'^ 7 

looked indulgently upon her passing weaknesses ; 
but now things had come to a crisis. One day, 
when the Regent was attending a service in Notre 
Dame, she was surprised by a band of women of 
the people, who surrounded her and fell at her feet 
crying that she was dissipating the fortune of her 
ward. " Queen," they cried, "yozc have a man in 
your kotise who is taking everything! " ^ 

The fact that the young King was being despoiled 
was a greater grief to the people than the abase- 
ment of the Queen. It must be avowed that Maza- 
rin was the most shameless thief who ever devoured 
a kingdom in the name of official duty and under 
the eyes and by the favour of a sovereign. His 
cry was the cry of the daughters of the horseleech. 
It was understood that Mazarin would not grant a 
service, or a demand of any kind, until his price 
had been put down, and In some cases the com- 
mission was demanded and paid twice. Bussy-Rabu- 
tln received a letter commanding him to " pay over 
and without delay " the sum of seven hundred 
livres. The letter is still In existence. Conde 
wrote it and despatched It, but It bears his per- 
sonal endorsement to the effect that he had been 
"ordered" to write It. Montglat states that Anne 
of Austria asked for a fat office for one of her creat- 
ures, that the office was Immediately orranted, and 
that the appointee was taxed one hundred thou- 
sand ecus. Anne of Austria was piqued : she had 

' See the journal of Olivier d'Ormesson. This scene took place March 
19, 1645. 



3i8 The Youth of 

supposed that her position exempted her from the 
requirements of the ministerial tariff ; she expostu- 
lated, but the Cardinal-Minister was firm ; he made it 
clear, even to the dim perceptions of his royal lady, 
that the duties of the director of the French nation 
ranked the tender impulses of the lover. Patriotic 
duty nerved his hand, and the Queen, recognising 
the futility of resistance, trembling with excite- 
ment, and watering her fevered persuasions with 
her tears, opened her purse and paid Mazarin his 
commission. By a closely calculated policy the 
State's coffers were subjected to systematic drain- 
age, the national expenses were cut, and millions, 
diverted from their regular channels, found their 
way into the strong box of the favourite. The 
soldiers of France were dying of starvation on the 
frontiers, the State's creditors were clamouring for 
their money, the Court was in need of the com- 
forts of life ^ ; the country had been ravaged by 
passing armies, pillaged by thieving politicians, har- 
rowed by abuses of all kinds. The taxes were 
wrung from the beggared people by armed men ; 
yet " poor Monsieur, the Cardinal," as the Queen 
always called him, gave insolently luxurious fetes 
and expended millions upon his extravagant fan- 
cies. No one cared for his foreign policy. Would 
political triumphs bring back the dead, feed the 
starving, rehabilitate the dishonoured wives and 
daughters of the peasants, restore verdure to the 
ruined farms ? 

'■ Motteville. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 3^9 

The Queen's anxiety to create an affection strong 
enough to blind the eyes of her courtiers to her 
intimacy with Mazarin had inspired her with a 
desire to lavish gifts. " The Queen gives every- 
thing " had become a proverb ; the courtiers knew 
the value of their complaisancy, and they flocked 
to the Palais Royal with petitions ; offices, benefices, 
privileges, monopolies either to exploit, to concede, 
or to sell were freely bestowed upon all who de- 
manded them. Each courtier had some new and 
unheard-of fancy to gratify, either for his own 
pleasure or for the pleasure of his friends ; any- 
thing that could be made visible, anything that 
could be so represented as to appear visible to the 
imagination, was scheduled in the minds of the 
courtiers as dutiable and some one drew revenues 
from it. One of the ladies of the Court obtained 
from the Queen the right to tax all the Masses 
said in Paris.^ "The 13th January, 1644, the Coun- 
cil of the King employed part of its session in 
refusing ' a quantity of gifts ' which the Queen had 
accorded, and which were all of a character to 
excite laughter." The royal horn had ceased to 
pour ; the Queen's strong-box was empty. The 
courtiers knew that there was nothing more to 
gain ; one and all they raised their voices, and the 
threatening growl of the people of Paris echoed 
them. The day of reckoning was at hand ; had 
Anne of Austria possessed all that she had given 
to buy the indulgence of her world, and had she 

' La viisere ati temps de la Fronde (quoted from the records of the Council). 



320 The Youth of 

willed to give it all again, she could not have stilled 
the tumult ; to quote Mme. de Motteville's rec- 
ord : " The people's love for the Queen had dimin- 
ished ; the absolute power which the Queen had 
placed in the hand of Mazarin had destroyed her 
own influence, and from too fondly desiring that 
the Parisians should love her lover she had made 
them hate him." In the beginning of the Regency 
Mazarin had been popular ; after a time the people 
had lost confidence in him, and the hatred which 
followed their distrust was mingled with contempt. 
Mazarin had emptied the treasury of France. 
No better statement of his conduct was ever oriven 
than Fenelon gave his pupil, the Due de Bour- 
gogne, in his Dialogues des Moris. Mazarin and 
Richelieu are the persons speaking. Each makes 
known the value of his own work ; each criticises 
the work of the other. Mazarin reproaches Riche- 
lieu for his cruelty and thirst for blood ; Richelieu 
answers : 

" You did worse to the French than to spill their blood. You 
corrupted the deep sources of their manners and their life. 
You made probity a mask. I laid my hand upon the great 
to repress their insolence; you beat them down and trampled 
upon their courage. You degraded nobility. You confounded 
conditions. You rendered all graces venal. You were afraid 
of the influence of merit. You permitted no man to approach 
you unless he could give you proof of a low, supple nature, — a 
nature complaisant to the solicitations of mischievous intrigue. 
You never received a true impression. You never had any 
real knowledge of men. You never believed anything but 
evil. You saw the worst in a man and drew your profit from it. 
To your base mind honour and virtue were fables. You 




CARDINAL MAZARIN 



La Grande Mademoiselle 321 

needed knaves who could deceive the dupes whom you en- 
trapped in business; you needed traffickers to consummate 
your schemes. So your name shall be reviled and odious." 

This is a fair portrayal, as far as it goes ; but it 
shows only one side (the worst side) of Mazarin's 
character. The portrait is peculiarly interesting 
from the fact that it was especially depicted and 
set forth for the instruction of the o-reat-P'randson 
of the woman who loved Mazarin. 

It is probable that stern appreciation of the 
duty of the representative of Divine Justice primed 
the virulence of the pious Fenelon, when he seated 
himself to point out an historical moral for the 
descendant of the weak Queen who sacrificed the 
prosperity of France on. the altar of an insensate 
passion. 

La Grande Mademoiselle was one of Mazarin's 
most hostile enemies, and her memoirs evince un- 
bending severity. The weakness of her criticism 
detracts from the importance of a work otherwise 
valuable as a contemporary chronicle. She re- 
garded Mazarin's " lack of intelligence " as his worst 
fault. She was convinced that he possessed neither 
capacity nor judgment " because he acted from the 
belief that he could reject the talents of a Gaston 
d'Orleans with impunity. His conduct to Princes 
of the Blood proved that he lacked wisdom ; he 
stinted the junior branches of their legitimate in- 
fluence ; he would not yield to the pillars of the 
throne the power that belonged to them by right ; 
he thrust aside the heirs-presumptive, when he 



32 2 The Youth of 

might have leaned upon them ! Manifestly he was 
witless, stupid, unworthy the consideration of a 
prince." 

Mademoiselle asserted that Mazarin deserved 
the worst of fates and the scorn of the people. She 
believed that many evils could have been averted 
had Monsieur been consulted in regard to the gov- 
ernment of the kingdom. She affirmed that it was 
her conviction that all good servants of the Crown 
owed it to their patriotism to arm and drive the 
Cardinal across the frontier of France. That was 
her conception of duty, and it smiled upon her 
from all points of the compass. 

Not long before the beginning of the Fronde, 
the fine world of Paris, stirred to action by the 
spectacle of the royal infatuation and by the 
subjection of the national welfare to the supposi- 
tive exigencies of " the foreigner," embraced the 
theory of Opposition, and to be of the Opposition 
was the fashion of the hour. All who aspired to 
elegance wore their rebellion as a badge, unless 
they had private reasons for appearing as the 
friends of Mazarin. The women who were enter- 
ing politics found it to their interest to join the 
opposing body. 

Politics had become the favourite pastime of the 
highways and the little streets. Men and women, 
not only in Paris, but in the chateaux and homes 
of the provinces, and children — boys and girls — 
began to express political opinions in early youth. 

" Come, then. Grandmamma," said little Mon- 



La Grande Mademoiselle 323 

tausier to Mme. de Rambouillet, " now that I am 
five years old, let us talk about affairs of State." 
Her grandmother could not have reproved with a 
good grace, because her own "Blue Room" had 
been one of the chief agents responsible for the 
new diversion just before the Fronde. A mocking 
but virile force arose in the Opposition to check 
the ultra-refinements of the high art, the high 
intellectual ability, and the other superfine charac- 
teristics of the school of Arthenice. The mockery 
of the Opposition was as keen and its irony was as 
effective as the mental sword-play of the literary 
extremists. Wit was its chief weapon and its barbed 
words, and merry yet sarcastic thrusts had power 
to overthrow a ministry. The country knew it and 
gloried in it. The people of France would have 
entered upon revolution before they would have 
renounced their " spirituality." In the polemics of 
the new party the turn of a sentence meant a dozen 
things at once ; a syllable stung like a dagger. 
Frenchmen are the natural artists of conversation, 
and they never found field more favourable to 
their art than the broad plains of the Opposition. 
Avowed animosity to the pretensions of the ped- 
ants and light mockery of the preciosity of the 
Prdcieuses offered a varied choice of subjects and an 
equally varied choice of accessories for their work. 
The daring cavaliers of the Opposition passed like 
wild huntsmen over the exhausted ground, with 
eyes bent upon the trail, and found delicate and 
amusing shades of meaning in phrases scorned and 



324 The Youth of 

stigmatised as " common " by the hyper-spiritual 
enthusiasts of the Salons. 

In the exercise of free wit, the women of the new 
political school found an influence which before 
their day had been monopolised by the polemists 
of the State's Councils. They — the women of the 
Opposition — swept forward and seized positions 
previously held by men, and since then, either from 
deep purpose or from pure conviction, they have 
held their ground and exercised their right to share, 
or to attempt to share, in the creation and in the de- 
struction of governments. Mademoiselle followed 
the fashion of the day when she frequented the 
society of people who were in disgrace at Court. 
She ridiculed the King's Minister, and as she was 
influential and popular, outspoken and eager to 
declare her principles, she was called an agitator, 
though in the words of Mme. de Motteville, 
"she was not quite sure what she was trying 
to do." Mazarin, whom Mademoiselle considered 
" stupid," had entangled the wires of the cabals 
and confused the minds of the pretenders with such 
consummate art that the keenest intriguers gazed in 
bewilderment upon their own interests, and doubted 
their truest friends. For instance. Monsieur, who 
had mind and wit " to burn," could not explain, 
even to himself, why he repudiated Mademoiselle 
when she quarrelled with the second junior branch. 
He knew that he was jealous of his rights and of 
all that belonged to him ; he knew that the power 
of the Condes was a menace, that his daughter 




MADEMOISELLL DE MONTPENSIER 

FROM A STEEL ENGRAVING 



La Grande Mademoiselle 325 

was a powerful ally for any party, that her cham- 
pionship was, and always had been, his strongest 
arm against an unappreciative world, and after one 
of the senseless exhibitions of anger against Made- 
moiselle to which Anne of Austria, impelled by 
Mazarin, frequently incited him, he asked himself 
why he maltreated his daughter when she resisted 
the usurpations of his hated cousins, the Condes. 

" Why," he queried piteously, " should I plunge 
the knife into my own breast ? " 

Why he did so, and why many another as astute 
as he moved heaven and earth to effect his own 
downfall was the secret of Mazarin. 

Mademoiselle wept bitter tears for the loss of 
her father's friendship ; then she arose in her pride, 
resolved to tread the path of life alone, according 
to her independent will. She was twenty years 
old and in the fulness of her beauty. She de- 
scribed her appearance with complalsancy ^ : 

1 am tall ; I am neither fat nor lean ; I have a graceful 
and freely moving figure, and my bearing is natural and easy. 
My bust is well formed. My hands and feet are not beautiful, 
but there is great beauty in their flesh, and the flesh of my 
throat is also very pretty. My leg is straight, and my foot is 
well formed. My hair is a beautiful ash-blonde. My face is 
long, and its contour is fine. The nose is large and aquiline. 
The mouth neither large nor little, but distinctly outlined and 
of a very agreeable form. The lips are the colour of vermilion. 
My teeth are not handsome, but neither are they horrible. My 
eyes are blue, neither large nor small, but brilliant, gentle, and 

' La GaUrie des portraits de Mile, de Montpensier. (New edition.) 
Edouard de Barthelemy. 



326 The Youth of 

proud, like my mien. I have a haughty, but not self-glorified 
air ; I am polite and familiar, but of a manner to excite re- 
spect rather than to attract the lack of it. I am indeed very 
indifferent about my dress, but my negligence does not go as 
far as untidiness. I hate that ! I am neat, and whether I am 
laced or loosely robed, everything that I wear looks well. This 
is not because I do not look incomparably better with tightly 
fitting garments, but it is because negligence and loose gar- 
ments sit less ill upon me than upon another, for I may say, 
without boasting, that I become whatever I put on better than 
anything that I put on becomes me. . , . God . . . 
has given me unparalleled health and strength. Nothing 
breaks me down ; nothing fatigues me ; and it is difficult to 
judge of the events and the changes in my fortunes by my 
face, for my face rarely shows any change. I had forgotten 
to say that I have a healthy complexion, which is in accord 
with what I have just said. My tint is not delicate, but it is 
fair, and very bright and clear. 

Before the lessons of experience and evil fortune 
changed Mademoiselle's handsome face, she was 
thus vivaciously described by an anonymous con- 
temporary : 

This Princess of the blood of kings and of princes is haughty, 
daring, and of a courage much more like the courage of a 
man than is commonly found in woman. It may be said with 
truth that she is an amazon, and that she is better fitted to 
carry a lance than to hold a distaff. She is proud, enterpris- 
ing, adventurous, quick, and free of speech. She cannot bear 
to hear anything contrary to her own opinion. As she has 
never loved either the King's ministers or her father's minis- 
ters, she has avoided them; because had she received them in 
her home, or frequented their society, civility would have 
constrained her to show them deference. Her humour is im- 
patient, her mind is active, and her heart is ardently set upon 



La Grande Mademoiselle I'^l 

whatever she undertakes. As to dissimulation, she does not 
know the meaning of the term. She tells what she thinks, 
careless of the opinion of the world. 

She was described in divers ways, according to 
the impressions of her associates. One said that 
her manner gave evidence of serious reflection ; 
another called her too vivacious. It was supposed 
that she had been the first to assert that the soul 
ought not to be susceptible to love, and therefore 
her admirers sang to her of the aversion felt by 
Pallas for the allurements of Venus. Mademoiselle 
had said: 

" Je nai point Vdme tendre." 

and she had meant what she said, and been glad 
to have it known that she was heart-free. 

She was blamed for her rude manners and for 
her outbursts of anger. When she declared that 
she longed to go to war with the soldiers her critics 
laughed at her pretensions. It was generally be- 
lieved that her faults were numerous, and that she 
had few of the qualities considered desirable in 
woman ; but no one ever called her petty, cowardly, 
or false. La Grande Mademoiselle was never a 
liar ; she never betrayed friend or foe. She was 
brave and generous ; and it was not her fault if 
when nature placed her soul in the form of a 
woman it gave her the mien and the inclinations 
of a man. 



CHAPTER V 

I, The Beginning of Trouble — Paris and the Parisians in 1648 — II. The 
Parliamentary Fronde — Mademoiselle Would Be Queen of France — 
III. The Fronde of the Princes and the Union of the Frondes — Pro- 
jects for an Alliance with Conde — IV. La Grande Mademoiselle's 
Heroic Period — The Capture of Orleans — The Combat in the Fau- 
bourg Saint Antoine — The End of the Fronde. 

I 

"PEW political crises have left, either upon par- 
*• ticipants or upon witnesses, impressions as 
diverse as the impressions left by the Fronde. As 
examples of this fact take Retz (whose Mdmoires 
are the epopee of revolutionary Paris), Omer 
Talon, the Queen's friend, M. de Motteville, 
La Rochefoucauld, duke and peer, Gaston d'Or- 
leans, de Beaufort, Anne de Gonzague, Mme. de 
Chevreuse, and all the messieurs and mesdames 
whose ways of thinking we know. They furnished 
the divers views of the Fronde from which we gain 
our knowledge of that event, and as they deduced 
their impressions from the effect which the Fronde 
had upon their personal interests or sympathies, 
and from their mental conditions, it is difficult to 
form an independent or a just idea. Versatile and 
brilliant imaginations have left kaleidoscopic visions 
of a limited number of very plain realities, and as 

328 



La Grande Mademoiselle 329 

the only means of giving uniformity and sequency 
to a narrative which, though it covers various 
periods, is circumscribed by certain limits, is to 
make a selection from the many means of study 
furnished by a voluminous mass of documents, I 
have detached from history nothing but the facts 
which were connected with the life of the person 
around whom I have woven this narrative. 

By relating everything concerning La Grande 
Mademoiselle and by showing her actively engaged 
in her daily pursuits when the Fronde took shape 
and during the war, I have hoped to make visible 
to the reader at least one figure of the most con- 
fused of all the harassed epochs of our modern 
history. 

Mademoiselle's point of view may not have been 
one of the best, but it had at least one merit : it 
was not the point of view of an ordinary observer. 
The Fronde was La Grande Mademoiselle's heroic 
period, and her reasons for embracing the cause 
were fit for the fabric of a romance. She intended 
to marry, and a marriage appropriate to her high 
station required the veiling smoke of the battle-field 
and the booming music of great guns. She entered 
the army and played her part with such spirit that, 
according to her own story, she wondered to the 
end of her days how she could have committed so 
many follies. These pages are written to explain 
the mental condition which evolved not only La 
Grande Mademoiselle's follies but the follies of 
many of her countrymen. 



33^ The Youth of 

It is evident from the memoirs on record that 
Mademoiselle did not expect a revolution, but in 
that respect she was as clear-sighted as her con- 
temporaries ; no one looked for any change. Four 
years had passed since the people raised the barri- 
cades, and all that time Paris had growled its dis- 
content. Neither the Regent nor the courtiers 
had cared to ask what the canaille were thinking. 
The cures had been driven from the devastated 
country parishes to beg bread and shelter in the 
monasteries, and the industrious French people 
who had always been neat and merry lay in rags 
on their sordid beds, dying of famine because the 
usurers of the State — the national note-holders — 
had seized their tools and confiscated all means of 
paying the labourer. 

In 1644 the people invaded the Palais de Justice 
and noisily protested against the new tax. They 
ordered Parliament to take their threats to the 
Queen. The Queen refused to remit the tax, and 
the city immediately assumed the aspect which it 
habitually wore on the eve of revolution. Groups 
of men and women stood about the streets, the 
people were eager and excited, — they knew not 
why. Business was suspended. The shopkeepers 
stood on their doorsteps. The third night after 
the Queen refused to listen to the appeal of the 
people, the milk-soup boiled over ! Bands of men 
armed with clubs descended from the faubourgs, 
crowded the streets of Paris, and, to quote an eye- 
witness, '* they gave fright enough to the city 



La Grande Mademoiselle 331 

where fear and like emotions were unknown," 
After a few hours the crowd dispersed and the city 
became calm. But the road was clear, the canaille 
had found the way ; they knew that it was possible 
to arm with clubs, or with anything that they could 
handle, and surge into the streets against the 
Crown. From that hour forerunners of the ap- 
proaching storm multiplied. Parliament openly 
sustained the demands of the people. In Parlia- 
ment there were natural orators whose denuncia- 
tions of the causes of the prevailing misery were 
brilliant and terrible. The people's envoys ac- 
cused the Regency of permitting the abuses, the 
injustice, and the oppression which had wrecked 
the peace of France. They persisted in their pro- 
testations, and the Majesty of the Throne could 
not silence them. At the solemn sessions of the 
beds of justice and in the Queen's own chambers 
they presented their arguments, and with voices 
hoarse with indignation, and with hands raised 
threateningly toward heaven they cried their 
philippics in the Queen's ears. Seated beside his 
mother the child-king looked on and listened. He 
could not understand the meaning of all the vehe- 
ment words, but he never pardoned the voices 
which uttered them. The Court listened, as- 
tonished. 

Mademoiselle weighed the words of the people, 
she paid close attention, but her memoirs do not 
speak of the revolts of public opinion. She was as 
unconscious of their meaning as the Queen, — and to 



332 The Youth of 

say that is to tell the whole story. Only sixty years 
before that time the barricades of the League had 
closed the streets of Paris, and only ten years before 
the theatre lovers had witnessed a comedy called 
Alizon, in which one of the ancient leaguers had 
fixed such eyes upon the King as our Communardes 
fixed upon the Versaillais. No one had forgotten 
anything ! The Parisians had kept their old arms 
bright ; they were looking forward to a time when 
arms would be needed ; yet the Regent thought 
that when she had issued an order commanding 
the people not to talk politics she had provided 
against everything. 

The nation's depths, as represented by the mid- 
dle classes, had found a new apostle in the person of 
a member of the Parliament, " President Barillon." 
Barillon had been a pillar of the Government, but 
his feelings had changed. Mme. de Motteville, 
who was in warm sympathy with the Regent, wrote 
bitterly of his new opinions. She said : 

That man has a Httle of the shade of feeling which colours 
the actions of some of the men of our century who always 
hate the happy and the powerful. Such men think that they 
prove their greatness of heart by loving only the unfortunate, 
and that idea incessantly involves them in parties, and makes 
them do things adverse to the Queen. 

The Court was as blind as the Queen's friend ; it 
could not see that the day was coming when the 
determination to abolish abuses would sweep away 
the ancient social forms before their eyes. In the 
opinion of the Queen the criticisms and the ideas 



La Grande Mademoiselle 333 

of the King's subjects constituted felony, and it 
was Barillon's fate to go down. Barillon had been 
the Queen's devoted friend and champion. After 
the King died he had worked hard to seat the 
royal widow on the throne. He believed — no one 
knew what excuse he had for believing such a 
thing — that the Queen shared his ideas of the 
rights of the poor and the humble, and that she 
believed as he believed : that kingfs owed certain 
duties to their subjects. Barillon was not forced 
to wait long for his enlightenment. Anne of Aus- 
tria was a woman of short patience, and advice 
irritated her. As soon as the President's eyes were 
opened to the truth he rushed headlong into the 
arms of the Opposition. Anne of Austria scorned 
"his treachery to the Crown." His impassioned 
thoughts of divine justice were enigmatical to the 
sovereign understanding. She was enraged by 
the obstinacy of her old friend, and by her orders 
he was cast into the prison of Saint Piguerol, where 
he died, as the just Motteville said, " regretted by 
every one." Barillon was the precursor of the 
" Idealogues" of the eighteenth century and of the 
Socialists of our own day. 

The Queen was one of the people who seem to 
have received eyes because they could not be blind 
without eyes. The King's porringer was empty 
because the King had no money. The Queen, his 
mother, had pawned the jewels of the crown to ap- 
pease her creditors, yet she was indignant when 
the bourgeois said that France was bankrupt. She 



334 The Youth of 

did not attach any Importance to "that canaille," 
— as she called the Parliament, — but she regarded 
criticism or disapproval as an attempt upon the 
authority of her son. As she expressed her exotic 
ideas freely, the bourgeois knew what she thought 
of them, and her abusive epithets were scored to 
the credit of the Opposition. As much from 
interest as from sympathy the Opposition in- 
variably sustained the claims of the people. " The 
bourgeois were all infected with love for the public 
welfare," said the gentle Motteville bitterly. So 
the Court knew that in case of difficulty It could 
not count upon " that canaille." 

Neither could Parliament count upon itself. 
There were too many counter-currents In its 
channels, too many Individual interests, too many 
ambitions, too many selfish intrigues, to say 
nothing of the instinct of self-preservation which 
had turned the thoughts of the nobles toward a 
last desperate attempt to prevent the establish- 
ment of the absolute monarchy. They had re- 
solved to make the attempt, and by It they hoped 
to save the remnant of their ancient privileges. 
They would have been justified in saving anything 
that they could lay their hands on, for no man is 
morally bound to commit suicide. In point of fact 
the only thing which they were morally bound to 
do was to remember that duty to country precedes 
all other duties, but in that day people had a very 
dim Idea of duty to country. La Grande Made- 
moiselle believed that the King's right was divine, 



La Grande Mademoiselle 335 

but she did not hesitate to act against the Court 
when her personal interests or the interests of her 
house demanded such action. After the " Affair 
Saujon/" she practically retired from Court. Al- 
luding to that fact, she said : " I did not think that 
the presence of a person whom the Queen had so 
maltreated could be agreeable to her Majesty." 

She made longf visits at her chateau of Bois-le- 
Vicomte, near Meaux. Her little court knew her 
prejudices and respected her feelings. She re- 
garded the success of the French arms as a personal 
misfortune, because a French victory conferred more 
glory upon Monsieur le Prince. The death of the 
elder Conde had not lessened the insolent preten- 
sions of the second junior branch, and the honours 
claimed by the hawk-eyed general afflicted the 
haughty Princess d'Orleans, who had no valiant 
soldier to add glory to her name. 

Referring to the battle of Lens Mademoiselle 
said : 

No one dared to tell me of it ; the paper containing the ac- 
count of it was sent to me from Paris, and they placed it on 
my table, where I saw it as soon as I arose. I read it with as- 
tonishment and grief. On that occasion I was less of a good 
Frenchman than an enemy. 

This avowal is worthy of note because it fur- 
nishes a key to the approaching national crisis. 
Mademoiselle's treason was the crime of architects 
of the Fronde ; of the Nobility first, afterward of 
all France. Mademoiselle wept over the battle of 

' May, 1648. 



33^ The Youth of 

Lens, and when her father commanded her to 
return to Paris to appear with the Queen and to 
join in the pubHc rejoicings her grief knew no 
bounds. The scene in the Palais Royal had de- 
stroyed her confidence and her sympathy, and she 
could not have " rejoiced with the Queen " on any 
occasion ; but her father's commands were formal, 
and she was forced to assist with the Court (August 
26th) at Notre Dame, when the Te Deuin was 
chanted in thanksgiving for the victory of France. 

On that occasion [said Mademoiselle] I placed myself be- 
side Cardinal Mazarin, and as he was in a good humour I 
spoke to him of liberating Saujon. He promised me to do ail 
in his power. He said that he should try to influence the 
Queen. I left them all at the Palais Royal and went away to 
get my dinner, and when I arrived I was informed of the 
clamour in the city ; the bourgeois had taken arms. 

The bourgeois had taken arms because of the 
unexpected arrest of two members of Parliament. 
" Old Broussel " was one of the two, and to the 
people he personified the democratic and humani- 
tarian doctrines of President Barillon, who had 
died in his prison because he had angered the 
Queen by pleading the people's cause. The news 
of his arrest fell like a thunderbolt, and the people 
sprang to arms. The general excitement dispelled 
Mademoiselle's grief ; she was not sorry for the 
uprising. She could not see anything to regret in 
the disturbance of the monarchy. Monsieur and 
the Queen had shown her that her interests were 
not theirs, they had tormented and humiliated her. 



La Grande Mademoiselle :^2>7 

and it pleased her wounded pride to think that her 
enemies were to be punished. The Tuileries were 
admirably situated for the occasion. Should there 
be a revolution it could not fail to take place under 
her windows, and even were she to be imprisoned 
— as she had been before — ^she could still amuse 
herself and witness the uprising at her ease. At 
that time there were no boulevards ; the Seine was 
the centre of the capital. It was the great street 
and the great open hall in which the Parisians gave 
their fetes. Entering Paris either from Rouen or 
from Dijon, travellers knew by the animation on 
the water when they were near the city. From the 
Cours la Reine to the little isle Saint Louis the 
river was edged with open-air shops and markets. 
On the river were barges laden with merchandise, 
with rafts, with water-coaches (which looked like 
floating houses), and with all the objects that man 
sets in the public view to tempt his fellows and to 
offer means of conveyance either to business or to 
pleasure. At various points the bargees and other 
river-men held jousts. All through the city there 
were exhibitions of fireworks and " water sere- 
nades," and along the shore, or moving swiftly 
among the delicate shallops and the heavy barges 
were gilded pleasure galleys with pennants flying 
in the wind. 

The light, mirrored by the water, danced upon 
the damp walls of the streets which opened upon 
the quays. 

The Seine was the light and the joy of Paris, 



33^ The Youth of 

the pride of the pubhc Hfe. Its arms enveloped 
Notre Dame, the mass of buildings called " the 
Palais," the Houses of the Parliament and the 
Bourse, an immense bazar whose galleried shops 
were the meeting-place of strollers and of gossips. 
A little below the Palais stretched the Pont-Neuf, 
with its swarms of street peddlers, jugglers, charla- 
tans, and idlers who passed their days watching 
the parade of the people of Paris. " The disin- 
herited," unfortunate speculators in the public 
bounty, sat apart from the stream of travellers, 
preparing for their business by slipping glass eyes 
into their heads, or by drawing out their teeth 
the better to amuse the public and to solicit alms. 

All the emotions of the people were manifested 
first upon the river. The Seine was a queen ; we 
have made it a sewer. 

Even then Paris was a great cosmopolitan city, 
capable of receiving the people of the world ; it 
was the only place in Europe where a palace could 
be made ready for guests in less than two hours. 
In less than one hour the hosts of the inns pre- 
pared dinner for one hundred guests at twenty 
ecus a cover. 

Yet in many respects the powerful city was in 
a barbarous condition ; it was neither lighted nor 
swept, and as its citizens threw everything out of 
their windows, the streets were paved with black 
and infected mud. There was little or nothing like 
a police system, and the city was sown with " places 
of refuge " (a survival of the Middle Ages), which 



La Grande Mademoiselle 339 

served as hiding-places for highwaymen and other 
malefactors, who enshrined themselves among the 
shadows and lay In wait for the weak or the 
unwary. 

At that time the Due d'Angouleme, the Ille- 
gitimate son of Charles IX., used to send his 
servants Into the streets to collect their wages 
from the passers-by. Having collected their money, 
the clever fellows returned to the ducal palace. 
The Due d'Angouleme possessed the right of 
shelter, and his palace was vested with all the 
power of the horns of the altar : once within his 
gates, the criminal was In safety and " Inviolable." 

The Due de Beaufort used to send his servants 
out into the streets to rob travellers for his per- 
sonal benefit. When the robbers were arrested 
their proprietor demanded their release and made 
great talk of an indemnification. 

The excessively mobile Parisian character has 
changed many times since the day of the Due 
de Beaufort ; but the people of the present are 
counterparts of the people of the times ^ of Louis 
XIII. and the Regency. One of Mademoiselle's 
contemporaries said : " The true Parisians love to 
work ; they love the novelty of things ; they love 
changes In their habits ; they even love changes In 
their business. They are very pious, and very 
— credulous. They are not in the least drunk- 
ards ; they are polite to strangers." 

Subtract the piety and add absinthe, the mother 

• Gamboust. 



340 The Youth of 

of Folly, and we have the Parisians of our own day. 
They too are industrious ; they are always chang- 
ing something ; they are changeable in themselves ; 
they are credulous ; they call religion " supersti- 
tion," but they believe in " systems," in "panaceas," 
in high-sounding words, and in "great men" — 
men truly great, or spuriously great ; they still 
cherish a belief in revolutions. They are as ready 
now as they were centuries ago to die for an idea, 
for a Broussel, and for much less than a Broussel. 
Just such Parisians as we meet in our daily walks 
raised the barricades in 1648. Broussel's windows 
looked out upon the river ; the boatmen and the 
people of the water were the first to hear of his 
arrest, and they rushed crying into the streets ; 
the people of the Halles joined them ; and the 
" good bourgeoisie " followed the people's lead. 
The tradesmen closed their shops, the chains were 
drawn across the streets ; and in the twinkling of 
an eye Paris bristled with antiquated firearms like 
an historical procession. 

Mademoiselle, who heard the noise, ordered her 
carriage, and went out to pass the barricades. 
She had never seen the mob as she saw it then. 
The people swayed forward to meet the insolent 
noble who dared to defy them ; but when they 
recognised their Princess, their hoarse cries turned 
to shouts of welcome, and eager hands raised the 
chains. Then, haughtily ignoring their fond smiles. 
Mademoiselle passed and the chains fell behind 
her. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 341 

So, with the canaille hailing her, she reached 
the Luxembourg, turned and recrossed the river, 
firm in her power as the Princess of the people. 
She had seen the barricades, and the sight was to 
influence her life. 

She returned to the Tuileries in a glow not of 
triumph, — she had never doubted the people, — 
but she had passed the barriers raised by the 
people against her enemies, and the people had 
confirmed her right to rule, while the Regent 
trembled ! 

The Granddaughter of France was the real head 
of the people, and as the faeries had been present 
at her baptism, obstacles and monsters vanished at 
her approach. 

With tender pride the people watched her pro- 
gress ; their favour was never based upon reason ; 
they did not ask why they loved the haughty 
Princess who called them " Knaves " and con- 
sidered them fit for the scaffold or the fagots. 
She was their goddess, and whenever she appeared 
they fell at her feet and worshipped her. 

The Court did not approve of Mademoiselle's 
democratic popularity. When she arrived at the 
Tuileries she was imprisoned in her room ; but as 
the whole Court was imprisoned, and as no one 
dared to cross his threshold, she was not inclined 
to murmur. Upon the whole the situation pleased 
her. She watched the pale, frightened faces of 
the courtiers with secret joy. Until then the Court 



342 The Youth of 

had taken the people's threats for jests, but the 
barricades had opened their eyes to the danger of 
their position ; the mob was at the palace gates, 
and no one knew how soon it would be in the 
palace ! Mademoiselle was in high spirits. Stand- 
ing at her open window, she watched the people ; 
they were massed upon the quays eating and 
drinking by the light of little bonfires ; many of 
them stretched out upon the ground where they 
could watch her and slept there until morning. 
The night was calm, but Mademoiselle said of 
the day which followed it : 

Early in the morning I was awakened by the Long Roll ; 
the troops were starting to take back the Tour-de-Nesle, 
which some of the wretches had captured. I sprang from 
my bed and looked out of my window ; it was not long 
before they came back ; some of them were wounded, and 
I was seized with great fear and pity. 

The canaille crowded the rue des Tuileries ; the 
men carried swords, and they did it so awkwardly 
that Mademoiselle laughed at them. 

The courtiers were prisoners ; all the streets were 
barricaded with wine-butts filled with earth and with 
manure. Given time, skilled workmen could not 
have raised a more effective obstacle ; it was good 
work, well done, and as a symbol of the strength 
and the intention of the people it was redoubtable. 

The barricades of the Fronde, floating the old 
banners of the League, had evoked the past and 
touched the revolutionary current in the aban- 
doned souls of the Parisians. Retz claimed that 



La Grande Mademoiselle 343 

his hand fired the powder, and to do him justice, 
though his Memoirs make a great deal of the 
part that he played in the Fronde, they tell less 
than the truth. He might have said without 
boasting that he held Paris in the hollow of his 
hand. He had worked hard to acquire the power 
by which he bent the people to his will. Vincent 
de Paul had been his tutor, and Retz had been an 
unworthy pupil ; he had remembered but one of 
Pere Vincent's many lessons of brotherly love. His 
mind had seized the warning : " Know that the 
people is a Being, to be considered ; not an in- 
animate object to be ignored," and from that 
simple precept he had deduced utilitarian con- 
clusions fitted for his personal service, and drawn 
from them a plan for his own conduct. The princi- 
ple of man's humanity had given him his idea. 
He had based his system on the susceptibility of 
men to the influence of intelligent suggestion, 
and by the judicious warmth of his sympathy he 
had surrounded himself with just such elements 
as his plan required. 

This young Abbe Retz was the coadjutor of his 
uncle, the Archbishop of Paris. He was of an 
excellent family. He was astute, and, having de- 
cided to turn the people to account, he applied his 
mind to the task of learning the opinions of the 
lockpickers and rufifians of the city. His of^ce 
gave him the right to go everywhere and to be 
seen in all company. He frequented the cellars 
and the garrets, he fraternised with the cut-throats, 



344 The Youth of 

he distributed alms, and as equivalent for what he 
gave received instruction in the magic vocabulary 
of the men who shut the streets of a city as easily 
as a warder shuts a door ; he studied the ways of 
the canaille seven years, living hand-in-glove and 
cheek-by-jole with the men of the dens ; he studied 
his world as he studied the policy of the ministry 
and the face of the Queen ; and when he felt that 
the footing of the Court was insecure he broke 
away from Royalty and put into action the science 
of the cut-throats. To act the part of Marius or 
Coriolanus before the people was to satisfy an 
ambition which had haunted him since he had first 
read Plutarch. Retz was the type of the hero of 
romance at a time when Corneille met his models 
in the public streets. 

He cared more to excite the admiration of the 
masses than to acquire position or money ; he was 
influenced more by passionate love of brilliant and 
extraordinary exploits than by ambition, because 
he knew that his exploits made the people admire 
him. In his opinion an out-and-out adventure was 
worth more than all else, and no condition seemed 
to him as desirable as the life of a conspirator. 
He was called le petit Catilina, and the title pleased 
him better than any other. His "popolo," col- 
lectively and individually, gloried in him, under- 
stood him, trusted him, and sympathised with him 
in all his longings. He was at home and at ease 
and as safe as in the archiepiscopal palace in the 
most dangerous of their dens. 




CARDINAL DE RETZ 



La Grande Mademoiselle 345 

He was the subject of all species of critical judg- 
ments ; La Rochefoucauld aud Saint Simon spoke 
admiringly of his " prodigious genius." Anne of 
Austria called him a " factionist." Mazarin, who as 
he loved neither virtue nor vice, could not judge 
justly of one of Plutarch's heroes, did not like 
Retz ; but he feared him. Mademoiselle said in 
her memoirs : " The Cardinal tells me that he 
believes that Retz has a black soul." People who 
knew no better laughed at the Archbishop's nephew, 
and Retz involuntarily fostered their delusion. His 
swarthy face, crooked legs, and near-sighted awk- 
wardness were well fitted to call forth the gayety 
of light-minded courtiers. To add to his question- 
able appearance, he robed himself in the costumes 
of a cavalier ; his doublets and other garments 
were of gaudy stuffs, belaced and bedecked with 
baubles which were in all respects, and without any 
qualifying reservation, beneath the notice of a 
serious or an appreciative gentleman. His per- 
sonal carriage (a prancing and tiptoeing swagger) 
impressed strangers with the idea that he was an 
unfortunate ballet-master whose troubles had de- 
throned his reason. But there are men upon the 
earth who are so constituted that they can support 
all the ridicule that can be heaped upon them ; 
Retz was one of them ; the fact that he was 
pleasing to women proves it. 

While this enterprising episcopal agitator was 
engaged in earnest contemplation of the first effects 
of the mischief that he had made in his own quarter 



34^ The Youth of 

(the quarter of Notre Dame) the Parisians were 
preparing for battle ; the fathers were polishing 
their muskets, the children were sharpening their 
pocket-knives." But Paris was calm, the rioters had 
gone back to the faubourgs. The streets were 
clear between the Tuileries and the Palais Royal, 
and Mademoiselle paid a visit to the Queen. She 
was in the Queen's salon when the Parliamentary 
deputation arrived, acting under stern orders from 
" the nation's depths," to demand the release of 
Broussel. Anne of Austria was angry ; she refused 
the demand and the deputies went back to the 
bourgeoisie. They were not gone long ; Made- 
moiselle was still with the Queen when they returned 
with the people's ultimatum : The people will have 
Monsieur Broussel / Anne of Austria was not dull 
and every possible contingency had been covered by 
her astute mentor. She ordered Broussel's release 
and the deputies departed, calm but triumphant. 

Mathieu Mole negotiated the release, and while 
he talked to the Queen a member of Parliament, ac- 
companying him, explained the political situation to 
Mademoiselle. The deputy's discourse was a clear 
statement of ugly facts and their consequences ; it 
gave Mademoiselle an insight into the reasons and 
the secret views of the magistrates. The canaille 
spoke so loud that all the world could hear ; the 
people's messengers held their heads as high as the 
nobles. As Mademoiselle watched " the long robes" 
file out of the royal presence she realised that all 
the riots and all the menaces had been but the be- 



La Grande Mademoiselle 347 

ginning ; she knew that the time was coming when, 
married or not married, every woman in France 
would be given her chance to do her duty. 

When Broussel returned to the people the barri- 
cades disappeared ; but the canaille was still ner- 
vous ; a practical joker cried out that the Queen 
was preparing another Massacre of Saint Barthol- 
omew, and the old muskets followed by the pocket- 
knives rushed into the streets. Another joker said 
that the Queen of Sweden with her army was at 
the gates of Saint Denis, and a prolonged roar was 
heard and the mob filled the streets and began to 
pillage. So, amidst alarms and alternations of hope 
and fear, the days passed for a time. The people 
of Paris rioted, then returned to their wretched 
homes. Whatever the day had been, the night 
brought vigilance. All slept dressed, ready for 
action. Mademoiselle, who was everywhere at 
once, was not afraid. When the canaille growled 
the loudest she went her way. She was happy ; 
she revelled in sound and in movement and in the 
fears of the Court. At a ball in the rue Saint An- 
toine she heard shots fired all night and " danced 
to the music of the guns." 

The Queen was anxious to be far from Paris ; 
Mazarin too craved rest ; but the royal habit of 
carrying about all the furniture of the household 
made secret escape difficult. The people were 
watching the Palais Royal ; they were determined 
that the Queen should not leave them. Neverthe- 
less the Court decided to make the attempt. 



348 The Youth of 

Apparently there had been no change at the 
royal palace ; the roast-hasteners and the soup- 
skimmers were in their places, and all the mouth- 
servants were watching with ears pricked to hear 
the first whisper of an order, ready to hand water 
or to run at the beck and call of the myrmidons of 
the myrmidons. In the streets around the palace 
lounged the people, silent and sullen, giving vent 
to angry criticisms or watching for " tall Made- 
moiselle." Mademoiselle appeared frequently at 
her windows, and the people greeted her with 
friendly cries. Paris was calm ; the silent river, 
bearing its gilded galleys, its charlatans, jugglers, 
serenaders, and shouting and singing river-men, ran 
by under its bridges as it had always run ; the 
Parisians laughed at their own suspicions ; one 
group left its post, then another, and thus, gradu- 
ally relaxing their vigilance, the King's warders 
returned to their homes. The 12th September, 
before daylight, a few wains loaded with furniture 
crept away from the Palais Royal and took the 
road to Rueil. At daybreak the more suspicious 
of the Parisians approached the palace and watched 
and listened. Evidently the royal life was still 
progressing in regular order. The following morn- 
ing before Paris was awake the young King was 
drawn from his bed, dressed, carried out into the 
courtyard, hidden in a coach, and set upon the 
road taken by the furniture. Mazarin accompanied 
him. Anne of Austria, " as the most valiant " (to 
quote the words of Mme. de Motteville) remained 



La Grande Mademoiselle 349 

in the palace to cover the retreat of her Minister, 
In the course of the morninof she was seen in vari- 
ous parts of Paris ; that evening she vanished as 
the King and the Cardinal had done before her. 



II 



The royal flight deflected Paris. The members of 
Parliament reproached themselves for their excess 
of severity. They made overtures to the Queen. 

It was believed that Anne of Austria, assured of 
the safety of her little brood, would reopen some 
of her old foreign correspondence and attempt to 
avenge her wrongs. Broussel had been released 
against her will — the city had raised the barricades 
— the Minister was an Italian and the Queen was 
anything but French ! Paris prepared for the 
worst. Whence would the trouble come, from 
Spain or from England ? 

Parliament continued to send deputies to Saint 
Germain, but the Queen was obdurate. All busi- 
ness was suspended ; people slept in their clothes ; 
the bourgeois hid their money. The courtiers, who 
had remained in their palaces, hurried away fol- 
lowed by their furniture ; and the evil faces which 
appear in Paris on the eve of a revolution were 
seen all over the city. The wains carrying the 
courtiers' furniture were pillaged, and the pillagers 
sacked the bakeries. Parliament had seized the 
reins of State, but the Parliamentary sessions 
resembled the stormy meetings of the existing 



350 The Youth of 

Chamber. Personal interests and the interests of 
the coteries had entered pohtics. After a deplorable 
day in Parliament Olivier d'Ormesson noted sadly 
in his journal : " The public welfare is now used 
only as a pretext for avenging private wrongs." 

Mademoiselle's feelings in regard to the events 
of the day were varied ; they could not be wholly 
pleasant, for there was nothing in the revolt of the 
people to tempt the imagination of a personage 
fully convinced that the King was the deputy of 
God. The first Fronde was an outburst of despair 
provoked by an excess of public anguish. Yet 
Mademoiselle considered it the adventure of a party 
of agitators. The preceding century France had 
been an exceedingly rich country. Under Riche- 
lieu Monsieur had depicted it in a state of famine, 
and in the early days of the Regency, and later, 
when foreign nations were lauding Mazarin's diplo- 
macy, the people of Paris were perishing from 
every form of squalid misery. The State paid out 
its moneys without counting them, lent at usurious 
interest, and gave the notes of its creditors to its 
note-holders, the bankers ; the note-holders fell 
upon the debtors like brigands ; the taxes were col- 
lected by armed men. Wherever the tax-gatherer 
had passed the land was bare, cattle, tools, carts, 
household furniture, and all the personal property 
of the victims of the State had been seized ; the 
farmers had nothing to eat, nothing to sleep on, no 
shelter ; they were homeless and hopeless; they had 
but one alternative : to go out upon the highways, 



La Grande Mademoiselle 351 

and, In their turn, force a living from the passers- 
by at the point of the knife. Through the brigand- 
age of the note-holders every year added a strip of 
abandoned ground to the waste lands of France. 

The nation had turned honest men into thieves 
and pariahs. 

Barillon raised his voice and the grave opened to 
receive him. Broussel was saved, but his salva- 
tion precipitated the catastrophe. The Queen had 
fled, abducting the King. The national Treasury 
was empty ; affairs were desperate, and Parlia- 
ment, Its honour menaced, decided upon a measure 
which, had it been successfully effected, would have 
changed the course of French history. 

England had inaugurated a successful political 
method by giving the nation a Constitution, and 
by introducing In France the orderly system with 
which the House of Commons had endowed Eng- 
land. With that end In view the magistrates and 
all the officials, who had paid for their offices, tried 
to seize the legislative and financial power of the 
State. They thought that by that means they 
could bring the royal authority to terms, and make 
the national Government an honest executive and 
guardian of the people's rights, — In the words of 
the reformers, " make It what It should be, to reign 
as It ouo-ht to relorn." ^ 

The nation, Individually, approved the Parlia- 
mentary initiative. Each citizen, courtier, or man 

' Andre d'Ormesson. (See note accompanying Olivier d'Ormesson's 
journal.) 



352 The Youth of 

of the lower order urged on the scheme. Some 
applauded because they wished for the good of 
France. Others looked forward to "fishing in 
troubled waters," All knew that a great deal of 
business could be done under cover of the excite- 
ment attendant upon national disturbances. They 
who had no need of money and no thought of 
financial speculation hoped that their personal 
schemes might be advanced by a national crisis. 
Mademoiselle was of the latter class. She had 
decided to unite her acres and her millions with 
the fortunes of the King of France. Louis XIV. 
was ten years old. Anne-Marie-Louise was one 
and twenty, and she looked her age ; her beauty 
was of the robust type which, mildly speaking, is 
not of a character to make a woman look younger 
than her years. Her manners were easy and as- 
sured. To the child who had so recently been 
dandled upon her knee the tall cousin was neither 
more nor less than the dreaded though respect- 
able daughter of his uncle ; the young King shrank 
from her. Mademoiselle suspected that he feared 
rather than loved her, and although her flatterers 
had told her that age was not an obstacle among 
people of her rank,^ she was troubled by a presenti- 
ment that she should not be able to capture that 
particular husband unless she could carry him off 
by force ; the thought unhinged all her political 
convictions ; but the enterprises of Parliament gave 
promise of utility. Her memoirs show that she 

' Lenet's Me'moires. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 353 

studied the situation from every point of view, and 
that a conflict raged within her breast. At times 
she believed that a public disturbance would be 
favourable to her interests ; at other times she was 
worried by the thought of the inconveniences at- 
tendant upon war. One day she approved the de- 
signs of Parliament ; the next day she indignantly 
denounced the subjects who had attempted to cir- 
cumscribe the authority of the King. She adapted 
to the royal situation all the maxims derived from 
the " Divine Right," yet she rejoiced at all the 
errors of the Court. 

She had errors in plenty to sustain her courage ; 
the situation was so false that anything but error 
would have been impossible. Married or not 
married, Anne of Austria allowed herself a danger- 
ous latitude ; Mazarin did not protect her, she 
protected and defended him ; to her mind all that 
he did was charming ; she glanced knowingly at 
her courtiers if he opened his mouth or if he 
moved his hand. Her eyes beamed upon him 
with familiar meaning, and while he talked her 
arch smiles asked the Court if her Chief of Council 
was not a prince among men and the flower of 
ministers. She would have been happy in a hovel 
had she been able to fix him stably among his 
precious ancient draperies and the thousands of 
rare objects with which he had surrounded his 
handsome form. Mazarin had feathered his nest 
a ritalzen, and the style was by far too superfine 
for the times and for the taste of France. The 



354 The Youth of 

gossips of the royal domestic offices had circulated 
the intimate details of the royal life. The public 
knew all about the favourite ; they knew what he 
wore, what he ate, and what he did ; and they thought 
of him as always at play with small, strangely rare 
animals, as graceful, as handsome, and as highly per- 
fumed as their master. In imagination they saw 
Mazarin steeped in sloth, battening on the public 
funds, and nourishing his soft beauty by the aid of 
secrets of the toilet of his own invention. Anne of 
Austria did not care what the people thought. She 
delighted in Mazarin. She was happy because she 
had been able to lay the nation at his feet. The 
people said that she had laid them under his feet, 
and they declared with curses that it should not be. 

Mazarin had rendered France incalculable ser- 
vices, but no one thanked him or did him justice. No 
one understood the work that he had accomplished. 
Paris knew nothing of foreign affairs. The people's 
minds were engrossed by the local misery, and so 
little interest was taken in politics that when the 
Peace of Westphalia was signed no one in France 
noticed it although the world classed it among 
great historical events.^ 

Paris knew more of the King's scullions than of 
Mazarin's diplomacy. The King's cousin : Made- 
moiselle la Princesse Anne-Marie-Louise d'Orleans, 
— fit bride for any king ! must remain upon the 
stocks to pleasure " the Queen's thief." 

The King, also, was the victim of the foreigner. 

' See official documents. (Paris, 31st October, 1648.) 



La Grande Mademoiselle 355 

There was little in the royal larder, and that little 
was not equally distributed ; the cohorts of the 
kitchen had made more than one strong personal 
drive in the King's interest. The wilful head 
with its floating veil of curls, the pouting mouth 
and tear-dimmed eyes were the oriflamme of the 
cooks' pantries. " Monsieur le Cardinal had forty- 
little fishes ^ on his platter ! I only had two on 
mine ! " wailed the young monarch, and the cooks' 
corps rose in a body to defend the " Divine Right." 

'' Ma foi!''' growled the bourgeois, " but he has 
toupet, that one ! he makes himself master of the 
King's mother, takes the food out of the King's 
mouth, and sets up his pomade-pots in the King's 
house ! " The people knew that, if they knew 
nothing of Westphalia ; the handsome fop had 
eclipsed the diplomatist. 

The people called Mazarin " the pomade inven- 
tor " and " moustache of the paste-pots " (not to 
cite their grosser expressions). When the mob 
cried : Vive le Roi! Retz heard echo answer : Mais 
point de Mazarin / The Queen was like all women 
deep in love ; she wondered why people blamed her. 

Her anger embittered the situation, but after 
making many futile attempts Parliament persuaded 
her to resume her duties and (the last day of Octo- 
ber) the King, the Queen, the Court, and the 
retinue, followed by loaded vans, passed through 
the suburbs homeward bound. Before they 
reached the city they saw that public feeling had 

' Forty sole. (See Olivier de Ormesson's journal.) 



356 The Youth of 

changed. The people had lost their respect for 
the Court. No one cared either for the Queen or 
for her Minister. The canaille hummed significant 
songs and cast bold glances at the mature lovers ; 
the courtiers' eyes furtively lingered upon the walls 
where coarsely worded posters accused the Queen 
of her delinquencies. Anne of Austria was brave. 
She entered Paris with cheeks aflame but with head 
high. She would change all that ! Parliament 
had urged her to return. . . . 

Time passed and the general attitude retained its 
flippancy. At Court all were counting the cost and 
planning how they could best turn the coming mis- 
fortunes of the Crown to their own profit ; ecus, 
dignities, offices, benefits of all kinds, would be 
within the gift of the new administration. The 
great were prepared for the emergency. Retz had 
driven his cures over to the opposition. La 
Rochefoucauld had urged Mme. de Longueville 
after the clerical sheep and Conti after her. Anne 
of Austria's patience was at an end ; she had no 
one to advise her ; after she had assured herself 
that the Condes would sustain her, she set out to 
the Luxembourg. Monsieur was in the agonies of 
one of the diplomatic attacks to which he was 
subject ; no one knew whether his pains were 
real or feigned. He was in bed. He had not 
changed since the days of Richelieu ; he was the 
same light-hearted, nervous, and bold poltroon, but 
his intellect was keen, he charmed strangers, he 
was pleasing even to those who knew him best. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 357 

Though the Queen was used to his arts, she was 
dazed by the flood of words with which he wel- 
comed her. From tender anxiety for her well- 
being he passed to the real anxiety of well-defined 
personal terror. Then, without stopping to take 
breath, he gave vent to such sentimental emotions 
that when Anne of Austria told her errand he had 
neither the face nor the force to refuse her prayer. 
She begged him to conduct the King out of Paris 
secretly, and — " By the faith of Monsieur ! " he 
swore that he would do it. 

This second fliorht was fixed for the nieht be- 
tween the 5th-6th January. It was agreed that they 
should retire to Saint Germain, although there was 
no furniture in the chateau. Nothing could be 
sent out this time — the palace was full of spies — 
the people were on the watch ! Let the furniture 
follow ! Fatality must see to that ! Mazarin bought 
two small camp-beds and sent them to Saint Ger- 
main ; he left to Providence the task of providing 
for the rest. 

The night of the 5th January Anne of Austria 
went to bed at her habitual hour for retirine. 
When she was assured that all the people of the 
palace were asleep she arose and confided her 
secret to her femme-de-chainbre who awakened 
the servants, whom she could not do without. 
At three o'clock they took the King and little 
Monsieur from their beds and dressed them in their 
warmest garments. The Queen then led the 
children down an abandoned flight of steps which 



35 



8 The Youth of 



opened on the garden. It was moonlight and the 
cold was stinging. The royal family, followed by 
on^ femme-de-chambre and a few officers, passed out 
of the garden by the small door opening into the rue 
Richelieu. In the street they found two coaches 
waiting for them. They reached the Cours la Reine, 
which had been chosen for the general meeting- 
place, without difficulty ; no one had arrived, and 
they waited. Mazarin had passed the evening at a 
soiree ; at the appointed hour he entered his carriage 
and drove straight to the Cours la Reine. Monsieur 
and Conde had been with Mazarin all the evening, 
but instead of going directly to the Cours they 
hurried to their homes to prepare their unconscious 
families. Mme. de Long-ueville refused to leave 
her bed ; she declared that she would never aban- 
don Paris. Monsieur awakened his wife ; she 
believed that she was dying, and her cries aroused 
the children ; Monsieur had three infant daughters ^ 
the eldest was two years and six months old ; the 
youngest had attained the age of two months and 
fifteen days. The young Lorraines were vociferous, 
and mother and babes wept together ; Gaston sang 
and whistled, laughed and grimaced. Finally when 
all the buckles had been adjusted, when the last 
limp arm had been introduced into its warm sleeve, 
the four helpless beings, struggling against the 
efforts of their natural leader, moved painfully 
through the dark passages of the Luxembourg 

' Monsieur's second marriage had endowed liim with five heirs, three 
of whom (daughters) had lived. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 359 

into the little streets, and across the river. As the 
murmuring band passed the Tuileries a light struck 
in Mademoiselle's apartment illumined all the 
windows. Mademoiselle was rising at her own 
time ! No need of haste for her, no need of 
secrecy ! Her will was the people's law. At sight 
of the ligfhted windows the tears of the feeble wife 
flowed afresh. 

Beyond the Tuileries all was confusion. At the 
last moment the Queen had despatched messengers 
to summon the courtiers and the courtiers had 
sent messengers to warn their relatives that the 
Court was on the march ; all had hurried from their 
homes, and lord and lady were pressing forward 
toward the Cours la Reine, the gentlemen fastening 
their garments askew, or wrong side out as they 
went ; the ladies, still in their nightcaps, moving 
wearily, soothing or upbraiding their weeping 
children. All wondered what it meant, all asked 
what the Canaille had done to force the Court to 
flee. 

Mademoiselle was the last to reach the Cours. To 
quote her own words, she had been " all troubled 
with joy" when ordered to prepare for flight, 
because she had believed that her enemies were 
about to take a step which would force them to 
look upon the effects of their folly ; but the misery 
of the sudden flitting, the indecent haste, the broken 
rest, the consciousness of bodily weakness had 
swallowed up her glee, and she arrived at the Cours 
in an ugly humour. She ached with cold ; she 



360 The Youth of 

was crowded in the coach ; she sought excuses for 
intimating that the Queen had brought a useless 
flight upon the Court. The children voiced their 
woes. Numb with the cold, worn out and querul- 
ous, the ladies chided their husbands and the hus- 
bands rudely answered. The moon went down 
upon the wretched exiles ; day had not dawned and 
black night hid the general woe. 

They fled in the darkness, cahin-caha, the child- 
ren sobbing, the women expressing their sufferings 
in ways equally tempestuous. The Queen was gay ; 
she was running away with Mazarin ! " Never," 
said Mademoiselle, "had I seen a creature as gay 
as she was ! had she won a battle, taken Paris and 
had all who displeased her put to death, she could 
not have been happier." They found Saint Ger- 
main bare ; they had neither furniture nor clothing ; 
they were worn out and anxious, and the chateau 
furnished no means of rest or refreshment ; the ex- 
iles stood at the gates all day watching the high- 
way and questioning the passers-by. No one had 
seen the luggage or the furniture. Toward night 
news arrived from Paris ; the wains were not com- 
ing ; the people were angry because the Queen 
had run away ; they had fallen upon the loads ; 
they had broken the courtiers' furniture. Only 
one load was on the road, — Mademoiselle's ; the 
King's loads had been respected, but they were 
not to leave Paris. 

Mademoiselle had left the bulk of her commodi- 
ties to be sent out at a later day ; only one load 



La Grande Mademoiselle 361 

belonging to her had started to leave Paris ; the 
people had examined that tenderly and then des- 
patched it for Saint Germain. 

No need to watch longer for the loaded wains ! 
The tired courtiers made the best of a bad busi- 
ness ; half a dozen of the highest of the Great 
"shared the Cardinal's two camp-beds" ; the quilts 
on which the children had been bedded on the 
way from Paris were spread upon the floor. Those 
who had no mattresses lay upon straw or upon 
bare boards. The ladies fared worst of all ; they 
had been used to the tender cares of Xkv^ir femmes- 
de-chainbre. 

Mademoiselle's spirits rose ; she had always 
boasted that she was " a creature superior to 
trifles," and the general difficulty had put her on 
her mettle. Monsieur's wife wept feebly ; she told 
the courtiers of the luxury of her early life, and of 
her present sufferings. Monsieur's little daughters 
were restless and displeased. Mademoiselle noted 
this adventure in her memoirs : 

I slept in a vast and finely gilded room, but there was very 
little fire in it, and it had neither window-panes nor windows, 
which, as the month was January, was not agreeable. My 
mattress was on the floor, and my sister, who had no mattress, 
slept with me. I had to sing to her to put her to sleep; she 
greatly troubled my sleep. She turned, and re-turned; then, 
feeling me close to her, she cried out that she " saw the 
beast," and then I had to sing to her again, and thus the night 
passed. I had no underclothing to change, and they washed 
my nightdress during the day and my day-chemise during 



362 The Youth of 

the night. I had not my women to comb my hair and to 
dress me, and that was very inconvenient. I ate with Mon- 
sieur, who made very bad cheer. ... I lived in that way 
ten days, then my equipage arrived, and I was very glad to 
have all my commodities. 

Louis XIV. and little Monsieur played about 
Saint Germain in the wintry weather, and as the 
days passed their garments acquired the marks of 
use. The King's furniture did not arrive, neither 
did his boxes ; the Parisians would not permit them 
to leave the city. All the gates of Paris were 
guarded ; no one was passed without papers. It 
was so difficult for people of quality to obtain 
passports that the ladies ran away in the garb 
of monks, or disguised in some other way. The 
Marquise d'Huxelles went through the gates in 
the uniform of a soldier, with an "iron pot" on 
her head.^ Paris had never refused its favourite 
anything, and Mademoiselle's chariots went and 
came and no one asked what they contained ; the 
belongings of her friends were transported as freely 
as her own if they were in her boxes or in her 
wains. In after life she used to call those days 
" the time of plenty." " I had everything ! " she 
wrote exultantly ; " they gave me passports for all 
that I wished taken out, and not only that, but they 
watched over and escorted my chariots ! nothing 
equalled the civilities that they showed me." 

Time passed ; the royal garments were unfit for 
wear and the Queen, reduced to extremities, begged 

' yournal dis guerres civiles, Dubuisson-Aubenay. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 363 

Mademoiselle to smuggle for her. Mademoiselle 
granted her request with joy. She recorded the 
event exultantly : " One has enough of it, — when 
one is in condition to render services to such people, 
and when one sees that one is of importance ! " 

The Parisians had given their favourite a con- 
vincing token of their love, and she regarded it as 
a proof that she was the one best fitted to share 
the throne of France. 

As the Parisians slept well on the night of the 
Queen's second flight, they were not conscious of 
their separation from royalty until the morning of 
the 6th January. The first emotion felt was con- 
sternation. Parliament made overtures to the 
Queen ; the Queen rudely repulsed the overtures, 
and Parliament issued an edict of expulsion against 
Mazarin. Mazarin expelled, Parliament raised 
money, and set about recruiting an army. The 
Council of the Hotel de Ville, representing Paris- 
ian commerce, sent a delegation to the King. 
Arrived in the royal presence, the deputies fell 
at the King's feet. They portrayed the horrors of 
civil war, they explained to the child that to be 
driven to attack Paris would be abominable. In 
the midst of his supplications the chief speaker, 
choked by sobs, cut short his plea. His emotion 
was more effective than any argument ; his tears 
proved the solemnity of the hour. The King wept 
bitterly, and, in fact, every one wept but the Queen 
and Conde, who surveyed the general distress 
dry-eyed. 



364 The Youth of 

When calm was restored Anne of Austria re- 
fused to yield. The die was cast ; civil war was 
inevitable. After lonof deliberation the H6tel de 
Ville declared for resistance. The masses of the 
people were defiant ; they accused the royal family 
of treason ; they demanded vengeance.-^ 

At that moment, when the nation stood alone, 
without a king-, when a mob, driven mad by despair, 
clamoured for justice from the nobles, Mme. de 
Longueville entered the political field. Nature 
had not intended Mme. la Duchesse de Loncrue- 
ville for a business career ; she was the impersona- 
tion of the soft graces of elegant leisure ; and even 
in her grave she charmed men, as she will always 
charm them while there exists a portrait of her 
pale hair and angelic eyes, or an historian to 
recount " the deliofhts of her calm mind illumined 
by the reflection of celestial light." ^ The fashion- 
able education of the day had been her ruin ; the 
little court of the H6tel de Conde, long sojourns 
at Chantilly, where people lived as the heroes and 
heroines lived in Astree^^ excessive novel-reading 
and frequent and subtle discussions of " love " had 
made Mme. de Longueville a finished sentimental- 
ist ; and in her path she had found waiting for her 
a man well disposed and well fitted to exploit her 
sentimentalism, and bold enough to avow the part 
played by him in her career. 

' Retz. 

'^ Unpublished and anonymous memoirs cited by Chevruel. 

^ La jeu7tesse de Mme. de Longueville, Cousin. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 365 

La Rochefoucauld's ambition was to augment 
the grandeur of his house, and he could not see 
why he should not put France to fire and sword, if 
by doing so he could seat his wife on a tabouret 
close to the Queen. ^ Under his guidance, Mme. 
de Longueville cast off her sloth and sacrificing 
her indolence to what she was assured was her 
"glory," became a political centre and acquired 
an influence as romantic as herself. Many of the 
lords who, after the flight of the Court, offered 
their swords to Parliament "for the service of the 
oppressed King " (that was the formula), were 
urged to that action by the persuasive Mme. de 
Longueville. M. de Longueville was her first 
recruit, the Prince de Conti was her second. 

As soon as it was known that France was pre- 
paring for civil war, Mesdames de Longueville and 
de Bouillon started for Paris. The day after they 
arrived at their destination they presented them- 
selves at the Hotel de Ville, saying that they had 
come "to live right there, in the Town Hall, under 
the eye of the municipality, as hostages for the 
fidelity of their husbands." 

Imagine [said Retz] these two ladies seated in the portico 
of the Hotel de Ville, all the more beautiful because they had 
arranged themselves as if they had not cared for their appear- 
ance, though, in fact, they had taken great pains with it. 
Each held one of her children in her arms; and the children 
were as beautiful as their mothers. The Greve was full of 
people, even to the roofs. All the men shouted with joy, and 
all the women wept their tenderness. Having been gently led 
' La Rochefoucauld, J. Bourdeau. 



366 The Youth of 

into the street by the aldermen, the Duchesses timidly re- 
turned to the portico and seated themselves in their old 
places. The city authorities then abandoned a vacant room 
to them, and in a few hours, with furniture and with other 
articles, they turned the concession into a luxurious salon, 
where they received the visits of the Parisians that same 
evening. Their salon was full of people of the fine world; 
the women were in full evening dress, the men were in war 
harness; violins were played in a corner, trumpets sounded 
an answer from the street, and people who loved romance 
were able to fancy that they were at the home of " Galatee " 
in Astree. 

So the Parisians were duped in the first days of 
the Fronde. " Galatee " reigned, and the reign of 
nymphs is expensive. The Court of the nymphs 
was daily augmented by general officers who offered 
themselves to the cause amidst the artless plaudits 
of the people. The generals were as expensive as 
the nymphs ; they demanded money for themselves 
and for their soldiers ; they exacted from Parlia- 
ment a promise which Parliament agreed to put 
into effect whenever it could make terms with the 
Regent. M. le Prince de Conti demanded an 
important place at Court, money, and favours for 
his friends. M. de Beaufort demanded an im- 
portant position, the government of a province for 
his father, money and pensions for himself, favours 
for his friends. 

The Due de Beaufort was a jolly dog whom the 
people loved. He was called "the King of the 
Halles," a title which expressed his popularity with 
the fish-wives, rabbit-pullers, agents of the abattoirs, 




,.s^^^ 



MADAME DE LA VALLIERE 

FROM A STEEL ENGRAVING 



La Grande Mademoiselle 367 

strong-porters, sellers of mortuary wreaths, cheese 
merchants, and all the rest. He lounged through 
the markets and the slums tossing his sumptuous 
head like a Phoebus- Apollo. He affected the 
argot of the canaille. His good nature was in- 
fectious and although he was an Harpagon and 
a brigand by proxy, he was a very agreeable 
courtier. 

The Marechal de la Motte demanded a colonelcy 
for himself and favours for his friends. Every one 
wanted something, and all felt that whatever was to 
be had must be had at once ; the time was coming 
when the nation would have nothinof to bestow. 

A document now before me contains sixteen 
names ; the greatest names of France.^ The 
owners of those names betrayed the King for the 
people because they hoped to gain honours and 
benefits by their treason. They would have be- 
trayed the people for the King had they hoped 
to gain more from the King than from the people. 
The nobility had taken the position held by certain 
modern agitators ; they resorted to base means 
because they were at an extremity. Like the 
farmers of France, the nobles had been ruined by 
the egotism of the royal policy. 

They had been taught to think that they could 
not stand alone. Richelieu had prepared for an 
absolute monarchy by making them dependent 

* Demandes des princes et Seigneurs qui ont pris les armes avec le Parle- 
mentet et Petiple de Paris {ijth March, 1649.) See Ckoix de Mazarinades. 
M. C. Moreau. 



368 The Youth of 

upon the King's bounty ; he had habituated them 
to look for gifts. This fact does not excuse the 
sale of their signatures, but it explains it. They 
knew that they had lost everything, they knew 
that the time was at hand when, should all go, as 
they had every reason of believing that it would 
go, the Government would have favours to bestow ; 
they knew that their only means of speculation lay 
in their signatures. They were not bas6 hirelings, 
— their final struggle was proof of that ! they were 
the " fools of habit " ; Richelieu had taught them to 
beg and they begged clamorously with outstretched 
hands, and not only begged but trafficked. 

When they demanded honours and favours they 
did nothing more than their hierarchical head had 
habituated them to do. So much for their sale of 
signatures. The fact that they had resolved to 
make a supreme fight, not for independence, — they 
had no conception of independence, — but against 
an absolute monarchy,^ explains the Fronde of 
the Princes. At the other end of the social ladder 
the mobility, or riff-raff, had taken the upper hand, 
dishonoured the people's cause, and made the 
Parisians ridiculous. 

Driven to arms by their wrongs, lured by the 
magnetic eloquence of the skilled agents of politi- 
cal egotists, led by a feverish army of men who 
held their lives in their hands, and commanded 
by women who played with war as they played 

' For a study of the complicated causes of the fall of the nobility see 
Richelieu et la Monarchie absolue, G. d'Avenel. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 369 

with love, the soldiers of the Fronde wandered 
over, the country encamping with gaily attired and 
ambitious coquettes, and with ardent cavaliers 
whose gallant examples fretted their own enforced 
inaction. They were practical philosophers, moved 
by the instinct which sends the deer to its sanctu- 
ary. " Country " and " Honour" had come to be 
but shibboleths : they, the Frondeurs, were of a 
race apart from the stern regulars who blocked the 
capital under Conde, and when the time to fight 
came they ran, crying their disgust so loud that 
the whole country halted to listen. The public 
shame was unquestionable, and the national culpa- 
bility, like the culpability of the individual, was 
well understood ; the cry of " treason " aroused a 
general sense of guilt. Certain of the men of 
France had been faithful to the country from the 
beginning ; the nation's statesmen, notably the 
magistrates, had acted for the public good ; but 
in the general accusation Parliament, like all the 
other factors of the Government, was branded ; 
its motives were questioned, and the names of 
honest men were made a by-word. 

Passing and repassing, in and out of all the 
groups and among all the coteries, glided the 
Archbishop's coadjutor ; now in the costume of a 
cavalier, bedizened with glittering tinsel, now in 
the lugubrious habit of his office. When dressed 
to represent the Church he harangued the people 
wherever he chanced to meet them ; the night- 
hawks saw him dlso-uised and masked runninof to 



3/0 The Youth of 

the dens of his conspirators. Whatever else he 
was doing, he found time to preach rehgion, and 
he never missed a gathering of pretty women. 

Meanwhile the price of bread had tripled ; the 
Revolution had reached the provinces, and the 
generals had signed a treaty of alliance with Spain. 
This was paying dear for the violins of the hero- 
ines of the Hotel de Ville ! 

In Parliament the magistrates, the solid men of 
France, revolted against the seigniors as they had 
revolted against the barricades. They knew what 
influences had been brought to bear upon indi- 
viduals, they had seen the royal power exercised 
to the ruin of the country, they knew the strength 
of the mobility, and their own honour had been 
called in question ; but their action was the result 
of an unselfish impulse. National affection, a 
natural patriotism, had raised them above fear and 
above rancour. They were determined to rescue 
the country, and they had lost faith in all inten- 
tions save their own. 

Acting on their own counsel and on their own 
responsibility, they hastened to conclude the peace 
negotiations of Rueil (nth March, 1649). Their 
action irritated the generals. Peace thus arranged 
was not in their plan ; it brought them no profit : 
they argued and bargained. 

To quote Mme. de Motteville, they " demanded 
all France " in payment for their part in the treaty. 
They made it plain that if they should give their 



La Grande Mademoiselle 371 

signatures it would be because they had been 
paid for them. Shameless haggling marked this 
period of the Fronde. After all those who had 
influence or signatures to dispose of had plucked 
the many-membered monarchy even to its pin- 
feathers, and after each of the assistants had taken 
a leg or a wing for himself, the generals consented 
to lay down their arms, and peace was proclaimed 
to the sound of trumpets. 

The day after the proclamation was issued, 
Mademoiselle asked her father and the Queen for 
permission to return to Paris. 

She wished to see how the Parisians reofarded 
her and how they would receive her. She set out 
from Saint Germain across the devastated country. 
The soldiers of both parties had burned the houses, 
cut down the trees, and massacred or put to flight 
the inhabitants. It was April, the time when all 
the orchards are in flower, but the suburbs within 
six miles of Paris were bare and black ; the ground 
was as lifeless as a naked rock. 

Ill 

"Monday, 8th April," noted a contemporary, 
" Mile. d'Orleans arrived at her lodgings in the 
Tuileries, amidst the great applause of the Parisi- 
ans. Tuesday, the 9th, every one called on Made- 
moiselle." 

Mademoiselle wrote : " As soon as I was in 
my lodgings every one came to see me ; all Paris 
came, the highest and the lowest of the party. 



372 The Youth of 

During my three days' stay In Paris my house was 
never empty." A second visit to the Tuileries 
was equally triumphant, and Mademoiselle was con- 
firmed in her determination to accomplish her 
destiny by marrying the King of France. The 
project was public property ; the capital of the 
kingdom approved it, and the people were ready to 
barricade the streets in case the King, the Queen, 
or the Italian objected to it. 

Mademoiselle should sit upon the throne! the 
People willed it ! 

At that time a comedy equal to any presented 
upon the stages of the theatres was played at Saint 
Germain, and the Queen was leading lady. The 
chiefs of the Fronde, generals, members of Parlia- 
ment, representatives of all the corporate bodies 
and of all the classes — even the humblest — 
visited the chateau and assured the Queen of their 
allegiance. As Mademoiselle said : " No one 
would confess that he had ever harboured an inten- 
tion against the King ; it was always some one else 
whom he or she had opposed." The Queen re- 
ceived every one. She was as gracious to the shop- 
keeper as to the duke and peer. Anne of Aus- 
tria appeared to believe all the professions that the 
courtiers made ; and all alike, high and low, went 
away with protestations of joy and love.^ The only 
one who lost her cue in this courtly comedy was 
Mme. de Longueville. Her position was so false 

' d'Ormesson. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 2>7Z 

that though she was artful she quailed ; she was 
embarrassed, she blushed, stammered, and left 
the royal presence furiously angry at the Queen, 
although, to quote an ingenuous chronicler,^ 
" the Queen had done nothing to intimidate 
her." 

Saint Germain returned the visits made by the 
city, and each courtier was received in a manner 
appropriate to his deserts. Conde was saluted with 
hoots and hisses. The Parisians had not forgot- 
ten the part that he had played in the suburbs. 
The other members of the Court were well re- 
ceived, and when the Queen, seated in her coach, 
appeared, holding the little King by her hand, the 
people's enthusiasm resembled an attack of hys- 
teria. The city had ordered a salute, and the gun- 
ners were hard at work, but the public clamour was 
so great that it drowned the booming of the cannon, 
and the aldermen fumed because, as they supposed, 
their orders to fire the salute had been iofnored.^ 
Exclamations and plaudits hailed the procession 
at every step. The canaille thrust their heads 
through the doors of the royal carriage and smiled 
upon the King ; they voiced their praises with 
vehemence. Mazarin was the success of the day ; 
the women thought him beautiful, and they told 
him so ; the men clasped his hands. Mazarin 
eclipsed Mademoiselle, and Mademoiselle, neg- 
lected by the people, found the time very long. 

' Registres de VHdtel de Ville pendant la Fronde. 
' Registres de VHdtel de Ville pendant la Fronde. 



374 The Youth of 

Speaking of that hour she said, " Never was I 
bored as I was that day ! " 

The beauty of the Queen's favourite won the 
hearts of the people of the Halles, and the royal 
party entered the palace in triumph. When Anne 
of Austria first left her palace, after her return 
from exile, the women who peddled herrings fell 
upon her in a mass and with streaming eyes 
begged her to forgive them for opposing her. 
Anne of Austria was bewildered by the transports 
of their admiration. They approved of her choice 
of a lover ; they sympathised with her in her love, 
and they were determined to make her understand 
it. The Queen's delicacy was wounded by the lati- 
tude of their protestations. 

Paris had made the first advances and royalty 
had accepted them. As there were no public " jour- 
nals," to speak to the country, a ball was given to 
proclaim that peace had been made, and the ball 
and the fireworks which followed — and which de- 
picted a few essential ideas upon the sky by means 
of symbolical figures — acted as official notices. 
The fete took place with great magnificence the 
5th September. 

Louis XIV. was much admired, and his tall 
cousin almost as much so. "In the first figure the 
King led Mademoiselle," said the Chronicle "and 
he did it so lightly and with such delicacy that he 
might have been taken for a cupid dancing with 
one of the graces." The guests of the Hotel de 
Ville, the little and the large Bourgeoisie, men, 



La Grande Mademoiselle 375 

wives, and daughters, contemplated the spectacle 
from the tribunes ; they were not permitted to 
mingle with the Court. Anne of Austria watched 
them intently ; she was unable to conceal her surprise 
at their appearance. The wives of the bourgeois 
displayed a luxury equal to that of the wives of the 
nobles. Apparently their costumes were the work 
of a Court dressmaker. Their diamonds were su- 
perb. Anne of Austria had assisted at all the official 
f6tes of thirty years, and she had never seen such a 
thing. 

The French Bourgeoisie was to be counted ; not 
ignored. The appearance of the bourgeoises was 
a warning, but the quality either could not, or 
would not seize it. 

When Paris had wept all the tears of its tender- 
ness it returned to its former state of discontent. 
The whole country was restless ; news of revolts 
came from the provinces. Conde was hated ; he 
was imperious and exacting ; he was in bad odour 
at Court ; he had offended the Queen. As Mazarin 
was in the way of his plans, he had attempted to 
present the Queen with another favourite. Jarze, 
a witless popinjay, was the man chosen by Conde 
to supplant the accomplished successor of de Riche- 
lieu. Jarze was a human starling ; he was giddy, 
stupid, and in every way ill-fitted to enter the lists 
with a rival armed with the gravity, the personal 
beauty, and the subtlety of Mazarin. Jarze had 
full confidence in his own powers ; he believed that 
to win his amorous battles he had only to have his 



Z7^ The Youth of 

hair frizzed and storm the fort. Anne of Austria 
was sedate and modest and she was deep in love. 
Jarze had hardly opened the attack when she or- 
dered him from her presence. Conde, stunned by 
the effect of his diplomacy, wavered an instant upon 
the field, but a sharp order from the Queen sent 
him after his protege. Anne of Austria felt the 
outrage, and she vowed eternal anger to Conde. 

Conde's lack of tact, coupled with his determin- 
ation to work miracles, led him into many false 
positions. He had no political wit, and nothing 
could have been less like the great Conde of the 
battle-field than the awkward and insignificant 
Conde of civil life. In battle he acted as by in- 
spiration. He surged before his armies like the 
god of war ; he was calm, indifferent to danger, 
impetuous, and terrible ; face to face with death, his 
mind developed and he could give a hundred or- 
ders to a hundred persons at once.^ In Parliament, 
or with the chiefs of his political party, he was as 
nervous as a woman ; he stood trembling, with face 
paling or reddening, laughing when he ought to 
weep, and bursting into fits of anger when the occa- 
sion called for joy. There was nothing fixed, or 
stable, in his whole make-up, except his overween- 
ing pride and an " invincible immoderation,"^ which 
eventually precipitated him into the abyss. No 
one had as much natural wit, yet no one was as 

' Segraisiana. 

' Mdmoires of La Rochefoucauld. 



La Grande Mademoiselle Z11 

fantastic in tastes and in behaviour. He adored 
literature : sobbed over Cinna and thought Gom- 
berville's Polexandre admirable. He swooned when 
he parted with Mile, de Vigean, a few days later 
he — as Mademoiselle termed it — "forgot her all 
at one blow." He was a great genius but a crack- 
brain ; a complicated being, full of contrasts and 
contradictions, but singularly interesting. He has 
been described as a " lank prince, with unkempt, 
dusty hair, a face like a bird-of-prey, and a flaming 
eye whose look tried men's souls." 

The summer was barely over when Conde forced 
the Cardinal to sign a promise not to do any thing 
without his (Conde s) permission. Conde's imperi- 
ious nature had driven him head long, and at that 
moment Monsieur's position depended upon his 
own activity. He had it in his power to sell sup- 
port to the Crown ; the Queen was on Change as a 
buyer. One step more and it would be d'Orleans 
against Conde with the Throne of France at his 
back ! Monsieur's wife and Mademoiselle seldom 
agreed upon any subject, but they united in urging 
Monsieur to seize his opportunity. As usual, the 
household spies informed the people of the family 
discussions, and the popular balladists celebrated 
the aspirations of the ladies d'Orleans by a song 
which was sung all over Paris. France was rep- 
resented as imploring Monsieur to save her from 
Conde, and Gaston was represented as answering : 

. . . " I am sleepy! I would pass my life in sleep, 
Never have I a wish to be awakened: 



378 The Youth of 

My wife, my daughter, you plead in vain, 
I sleep.'" 

Monsieur trembled with fear [wrote Retz]; at times it was 
impossible to persuade him to go to Parliament; he would not 
go even with Conde for an escort; the bare thought of it terri- 
fied him. When a paroxysm of fear seized him it was said 
that his Royal Highness was suffering from another attack of 
colic. 

One day when several of his friends had, by 
their united efforts succeeded in getting him as far 
as the Saint Chapelle, he turned and ran back to 
his palace with the precipitation and the grimaces 
of a client of M. Purgon.^ 

Nothing could be done with Gaston ; his con- 
duct made Mademoiselle heart-sick. When the 
second or new Fronde took shape she had no part 
in it. She looked, on as a listless spectator, while 
Mazarin spun his web around his enemies and 
worked his way toward the old Fronde. Conde 
was marching on to a species of dictatorship when 
the King's minions brought him to a halt. He was 
arrested and cast into prison and the Parisians cele- 
brated his disgrace by building bonfires (i8th Janu- 
ary). A great political party composed of women 
from all parts of France arose to champion Conde, 
and still the bravest of all women, La Grande 

* ... "y^e veux dormir, 
ye naquis en dorjnant, j^y veux passer ma vie. 
yainais de m^eveillen il ne me prit envie, 
Toi, ma fe?nme et ma fille, y perdez vos efforts, 
ye dors." 

^ Le yournal de Dubtnsson-A ubenay. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 379 

Mademoiselle, sat with head bowed, deep in grief • 
her father's cowardice had drained life of its joy. 

Having aroused the wrath of France by adven- 
tures which were the scandal of their hour, Mme. de 
Longueville had taken refuge in a foreign land and 
formed an alliance with Spain. France looked on 
bewildered by the turn of events ; Mme. de Chev- 
reuse and the Princess Palatine were in active life 
regarded as equals of men of State, consulted, and 
obeyed. Mme. de Montbazon had her own sphere 
of action ; Mme. de Chatillon had hers^ ; both ladies 
were powerful and dangerous politicians. Others, 
by the dozen, and from one end of the kingdom to 
the other, were engaged in directing affairs of State. 

Even the insignificant wife of Conde whom no one 
— not even her husband — had counted as worthy 
of notice, had reached the front rank at a bound 
by the upheaval of Bordeaux ; yet La Grande Made- 
moiselle, who possessed the spirit and the energy 
of a man, was peremptorily ordered by her father 
and forced to follow Anne of Austria from prov- 
ince to province suppressing insurrections. 

In the many months which Mademoiselle con- 
sidered as unworthy of note in her memoirs, the 
only period of time well employed by her was passed 
in an attack of smallpox, which she received so 
kindly that it embellished her ; she said of it : " Be- 
fore then my face was all spotted ; the smallpox took 
that all away." 

' La jeicnesse du Mareschal du Lztxembourg, Pierre de Segur. 



380 The Youth of 

Mme. de Longueville's alliance with Spain had 
cost France the invasion of the Archduke Leopold 
and de Turenne. In 1650 the Court went to the 
siege of Bordeaux and Mademoiselle was compelled 
to accompany the Queen and to appear as an ad- 
herent of the King's party ; but before she set out 
upon her distasteful journey she wrote a letter to 
the invader (the Archduke Leopold) which she was 
not ashamed to record and which contained a frank 
statement of her opinion : 

Your troops are more capable of causing joy than fear. 
The whole Court takes your arrival in good part, and your 
enterprises will never be regarded as suspicious. Do all that 
it pleases you to do; the victories that you are to win will be 
victories of benevolence and affection/ 

Let us remember the nature of those victories of 
" benevolence and affection " before we form an 
opinion. Time has veiled with romance the man- 
oeuvres which the amazons of the Fronde made to 
excite the masses to rebellion, but the legend loses 
its glamour when we consider the brutal ferocity of 
the armies of the seventeenth century and the 
abominations practised in the name of glory. The 
women who shared the life of the generals of 
the Fronde were travesties of heroines, devoid of 
the gentler instincts of woman ; there was nothing 
good in them ; their imaginations were perverted, 
they incited their followers to cruelty, and playing 
with tigerish grace with the love of men, they bab- 

' M. Feillet cites this letter in La mis/re au temps de la Fronde, but he 
does not give its date. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 381 

bled musically, in artful and well-turned sentences, 
of the questions of the day, and mocked and 
wreathed their arms above their heads when their 
victims were dying. 

The Court arrived at Libourne ist August and 
remained there thirty days. The weather was very 
warm, and the Queen secluded herself in her apart- 
ment and forced Mademoiselle to sit at her side 
working on her tapestry. Mademoiselle fumed ; 
she was imprisoned like a child while all the ladies 
of France were engaged in military service. To 
add to her mortification, she felt that the Queen 
had taken a false step and that all Paris was laugh- 
ino- at the Court. Sittino- in the Oueen's close 
rooms, Mademoiselle reflected bitterly on her posi- 
tion. She had aeain entered into collusion with 
Saujon. The Emperor was for the second time 
a widower, and Mademoiselle had re-employed the 
services of her old ambassador. She had sent 
Saujon to the Emperor to make a second attempt 
to arrange a marriage. But she had not renounced 
the King of France, and one of her confidential 
friends had opened her eyes to the real character 
of her enterprise. Until then it had seemed natural 
enough that she should make efforts to establish 
herself in life ; but through the officious indelicacy 
of her friend she had learned that she was pursuing 
two husbands at once. One of the objects of her 
pursuit was a man of ripe age, doubly widowed, the 
husband of two dead wives ; the other a child of 



382 The Youth of 

tender years, — and neither one nor the other would 
consent to marry her. She was glad to be far from 
Paris, where every one knew and pitied her. She 
burned incense to all her gods and prayed that civil 
war might keep the Parisians too busy to remember 
her. Her grief and shame were at their height 
when the scene changed. Monsieur awoke ; Retz 
had worked a miracle. By means of his peculiar 
method, acting upon the principle of humanity's 
susceptibility to intelligent suggestion, Retz had 
persuaded Monsieur that he. Monsieur, was the only 
man in France fit to mediate between the parties ; 
after long-continued series of efforts his clerical in- 
sinuations had aroused Gaston from his torpor, 
and one evening when the Queen, flushed and irrit- 
able, and Mademoiselle, dejected but defiant, sat at 
their needlework Gaston entered the dim salon 
and announced his importance. The trickster of 
the pulpit and of the slums had managed to infuse 
a little of his own spirit into the royal poltroon, 
and for the first time in his political career Gaston 
displayed some of the characteristics of a man. In 
an hour Bordeaux knew that the Prince d' Orleans 
had arrived in Libourne as the accredited mediator 
of the parties. The politicians fawned at his feet, 
and Anne of Austria rose effusively to do honour 
to Monsieur le Prince d' Orleans. By order of the 
Regent all despatches were submitted to Gaston, 
who passed upon them as best he could. 

Mazarin rose to meet the situation ; he was not 
bewildered by Retz's tactics ; he affected to believe 



La Grande Mademoiselle 3^3 

that Monsieur must be consulted upon all matters, 
and by his orders Monsieur's tables were littered 
with documents. Mazarin multiplied occasions for 
displaying his allegiance to the royal arbiter. 
Mademoiselle met the change in her situation joy- 
fully, but calmly. It was the long-expected first 
smile of fortune ; it was the natural consequence 
of her birth ; things were entering their natural 
order ; but she was observant and her memoirs 
show us that she valued her incense at its real 
worth. While the political world bent the knee 
before Monsieur Mazarin fortified his own position. 
He sat with the ladies in the Queen's salon, he be- 
trayed a fatherly solicitude in Mademoiselle's future 
and, as he acted his part, his enthusiasm increased. 
One day when he was alone with Mademoiselle he 
assured her that he had prayed long and earnestly 
for her establishment upon one of the thrones of 
the world. Sitting at her tapestry, Mademoiselle 
listened and averted her head to hide her anger. 
Mazarin, supposing that he had aroused her grati- 
tude, exposed all his anxiety. Mademoiselle did 
not answer. At last, astonished by her silence, he 
cut short his declamation. Mademoiselle counted 
her stitches and snipped her threads ; Mazarin 
watched her impassive face. After a long silence 
she arose, pushed aside her embroidery frame, and 
turning to enter her own apartment, she said calmly: 
" There is nothing upon earth so base that you 
have not thought of it this morninor." Mazarin 
was alone ; he sat with eyes fixed upon the floor, 



384 The Youth of 

smiling indulgently, wrapt in thought ; he was 
not angry, — he was never visibly excited to anger ; 
but he did not return to the subject. Mademoiselle 
had resented his overtures because she had made 
known her projects freely and he had promised her 
a king, not an emperor. She reported the Cardi- 
nal's conduct to Lenet : " The Cardinal has prom- 
ised me, a hundred times, that he would arrange to 
have me marry the King ^ — but the Cardinal is a 
knave ! " The Queen said with truth that Made- 
moiselle was becoming a rabid Frondeuse. Made- 
moiselle had her own corps of couriers, who carried 
her the latest news from Paris ; her court was 
larofer than the Resfent's. When Bordeaux was 
taken the people saw nothing and talked of nothing 
but Monsieur's daughter. Mademoiselle exultantly 
recorded her triumph : 

" No one went to the Queen's, and when she 
passed In the streets no one cared at all for her. I 
do not know that it was very agreeable to her to 
hear that my court was large and that no one was 
willing to leave my house, when so few cared to go 
to her house." 

While the Recent lano-uished in solitude wait- 
inor for visitors who did not arrive her Minister 
received the rebuffs of the people of Bordeaux. 
The Queen was sick from chagrin, and as soon as 
arranorements could be made she returned to Paris. 
On the way to Paris the Court stopped at Fontaine- 
bleau. Gaston descended brusquely from his coach 

' Lenet's M/moires. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 385 

and as his foot touched the ground gave way to a 
violent outburst of nervous anger. Mazarin was 
the object of his fury ; in some occult way the 
Cardinal had wounded his feelings. He fled to his 
room and locked his door, refusing to see either 
Mazarin or the Queen. As he stood his ground, and 
as no one could approach him, the Queen implored 
Mademoiselle to pacify him ; and Mademoiselle, 
carrying her olive branch with a very bad grace, set 
out to play the part of dove in the ark. After many 
goings and comings, Monsieur consented to receive 
the Queen ; but the Queen acidulated rather than 
sweetened the royal broth, and Monsieur broke 
away from her in a passion of fury. From that 
time all that Anne of Austria attempted to do 
failed ; her evil hour was approaching. Mazarin 
had thought of two alternatives : he believed that 
he might buy Retz by making him a cardinal ; or 
that he might win the good-will of Mademoiselle by 
marrying her to the King. But could he do either 
one thing or the other ? Could he mortify his own 
soul by doing anything to give Retz pleasure ? 
Retz was hateful to him. 

Despite his powerful diplomatic capacity, Mazarin 
was not a politician, and some of his instincts bore 
a curious family resemblance to the characteristic 
instincts of the average woman ; so although he be- 
lieved that it would be possible to buy Retz with a 
red hat the thought of giving him the hat distressed 
him. So much for one of his alternatives ! 

As to marrying Mademoiselle to the King of 



386 The Youth of 

France, — that would be difficult, if not impossible ; 
the thought of such a marriage was repugnant to 
the King. Louis XIV. was wilful and the Queen 
was an indulgent mother. She pampered her 
children ; she excused the King's failings. Mazarin 
was patient, but he had often considered Anne of 
Austria adverse to reason when the King was in 
question. The Cardinal was master of the Queen, 
but he was not, he never had been, he never could 
be, master of the Queen-mother. 

In his extremity he resorted to his usual means, — 
intrigue ; but he found that his power had waned. 
There were people who might have helped him, 
and who would have helped him in former times, 
but they had ceased to fear him ; they demanded 
pay and refused to work without it. Mazarin was 
too normally natural a man to act against nature ; 
he clung to his economies and as his supposititious 
agents refused to take their pay in " blessed water," 
his plans failed. His attempts were reported to 
his intended victims and before the sun set Made- 
moiselle of the Court and of the people, and the 
Abbe Retz of the Archbishopric and of the slums 
had arisen in their might against " the foreigner." 
Both of the leaders of the masses were implacable ; 
each was powerful in his own way ; both believed 
that they had been duped by the Archbishop's 
coadjutor ; Retz had expected a hat ; Mademoiselle 
had expected a husband ; both, vowing vengeance to 
the death, turned their backs upon Mazarin. Made- 
moiselle had acquired the habit of suspicion ; politics 



La Grande Mademoiselle z^7 

had given her new ideas ; Retz had always been 
suspicious and he had prepared for every emer- 
gency. Mazarin, sitting in his perfumed bower, 
felt that the end was near. What was he ? What 
had they always called him? "The stranger." 

The whole world was against him . 
the nobles, the Parliaments . . . the old 
Fronde, the Fronde of the Princes ! . . . Retz 
with his adjutants of the mobility ! To crown his 
imprudence and to prove that he was more power- 
ful as a lover than as a politician, Mazarin took the 
field at Rethel (15th December, 1650) and won the 
day ; Turenne and his foreigners were beaten, and 
fear seized the people of France. An intriguer of 
that species could do anything ! France was not 
safe in his presence ; he must be driven out ! Dur- 
ing the Fronde it was common for women to 
dictate the terms of treaties. Anne de Gonzague, 
the Palatine Princess, whose only mandate lay in 
her eyes, her wit, and her bold spirit, drew up the 
treaty which followed Rethel, and the principal 
articles were liberty for the princes and exile for 
Mazarin. 

Mademoiselle approved both articles before the 
treaty was signed. The times were full of possibilities 
for her ; her visions of a marriage with Louis XIV. 
had been blurred by a sudden apparition. Conde had 
arisen in her dreams with a promise of something 
better. Might it not be wiser policy to unite the 
junior branches of the House of France ? Might it 
not be more practical, more fruitful in results, to 



388 The Youth of 

marry M. le Prince de Conde than to wage war 
against him ? That he was a married man was of 
small importance. His wife, the heroine of Bor- 
deaux, was in delicate health and as liable to die as 
any mortal ; in the event of her death the dissent 
of the Opposition would be the only serious 
obstacle. Mademoiselle confided all her perplexi- 
ties to her memoirs ; she foresaw that the dissent 
of the Opposition would be ominous for the royal 
authority, and therefore ominous for the public 
peace. She reflected ; Conde was a strong man ; 
and who was stronger than the Granddaughter of 
France ? She decided that they two, she and 
Conde, made one by marriage, might defy the 
obstacle. Mazarin knew all her thoughts, and he 
felt that the earth was crumbling under his feet ; to 
quote Mademoiselle's own words : " He was quasi- 
on-his-knees " before her, offering her the King of 
France ; but he made one condition : she must pre- 
vent her father's adhesion to the cause of M. le 
Prince.^ Anne of Austria, with eyes swimming 
in tears, presented herself humbly, imploring 
Mademoiselle, in the name of their ancient friend- 
ship, to soften Monsieur's heart to "Monsieur le 
Cardinal." The Queen begged Mademoiselle to 
make her father understand that she, the Queen, 
** could not refuse Monsieur anything should he 
render her such service." Mademoiselle was ready 
to burst with pride when she repeated the Queen's 
promise. A future as bright as the stars lay before 

' Motteville. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 389 

her ; for the first time and for the last time she had 
a reason for her dreams. 

Monsieur was the recognised chief of the coali- 
tion against Mazarin, but he was afraid to act ; he 
did not like to leave compromising traces ; he re- 
sisted when it was necessary to sign his name. 
Knowing that the treaty uniting the two Frondes 
must be signed and that he must sign it, his politi- 
cal friends went in a body to the Luxembourg 
treaty in hand. Gaston saw them coming and tried 
to escape, but they caught him in the opening of 
a double door, and closing the two sides of the 
door upon his body, squeezing him as in a vise, 
they thrust a pen between his fingers ; then holding 
a hat before him for the treaty to rest on, they com- 
pelled him to sign his name. An eye-witness said 
that "he signed it as he would have signed a com- 
pact with the devil had he feared to be interrupted 
by his good angel." A few weeks later Parliament 
demanded the release of the princes and the exile 
of Mazarin. Then Mademoiselle was given a vision 
which filled her cup of joy to overflowing. 

I had intended [she wrote in her memoirs] to go to bed 
very early, because I had arisen very early that morning; but 
I did not do it, because just as I was undressing they came to 
tell me of a rumour in the city. My curiosity led me out upon 
the terrace of the Tuileries. The terrace looked out upon 
several sides. It was a very beautiful moonlight night and I 
could see to the end of the street.' On the side toward the 
water was a barrier; some cavaliers were guarding the barrier 
to favour the departure of M. le Cardinal, who was leaving 

' The street separating the terrace from the garden, rue des Tuileries. 



390 The Youth of 

by way of La Conference; the boatmen were crying out against 
his getting away; there were many valets and my violin 
players, who are soldiers, although that is not their profession. 
They were all trying to drive away the cavaliers, who were 
helping Mazarin to escape. Some pretty hot shots were fired. 



At that same hour the Palais Royal was the 
scene of a drama. Mazarin was taking leave, and 
the Queen thought that she was looking upon him 
for the last time. The lovers who shared so many- 
memories, and who must have had so many things 
to say before they parted, dared not, even for a 
moment, evade the hundreds of eyes fixed upon 
them. Mazarin could not conceal his grief ; the 
Queen, though calm, was very grave. To the last 
moment the unhappy pair were forced to speak in 
such a way that the courtiers could not judge of 
their sorrow by their looks. At last it was over ; 
the door closed upon Mazarin, and the wretched 
Queen was left among her courtiers. Mazarin 
hurried to his rooms, disguised himself as a cava- 
lier, and went on foot out of the Palais Royal. 
Finding that the cavaliers and river-men were fight- 
ing on the quay, he turned into the rue de Richelieu 
and went away unmolested. It is known that be- 
fore going to Germany he went to the prison of 
Havre and set the princes free. Eleven days after 
Mazarin took leave of the Queen Paris learned that 
Conde was en route and that he was to sup at the 
Luxembourg the following day. Mademoiselle 
knew that her new projects depended upon her 



La Grande Mademoiselle 391 

first meeting with M. le Prince. She had sent the 
olive branch to his prison, but she did not know 
how he had received it. She awaited his^ coming at 
the Luxembouro-. She said of that first interview: 

Messieurs the Princes came into Madame's salon, where 
was, and after they saluted they came to me and paid me a 
thousand compliments. M. le Prince bore witness in particu- 
lar that he had been very much pleased when Guiteau assured 
him of my repentance for the great repugnance that I had felt 
for him. The compliments ended, we avowed the aversion 
that we had felt for one another. He confessed that he had 
been delighted when I fell sick of the smallpox, that he had 
passionately wished that I might be disfigured by it, and that 
I might be left with some deformity, — in short, he said that 
nothing could have added to the hatred that he felt for me. I 
avowed to him that I had never felt such joy as I felt when he 
was put in prison, that I had strongly wished that he might be 
kept there, and that I had thought of him only to wish him 
evil. This reciprocal enlightenment lasted a long time, and it 
cheered and amused the company and ended in mutual assur- 
ances of friendship. 

During the interview the tumult of a great public 
fete was heard. At sigfht of Conde Paris had been 
seized by one of her sudden infatuations. 

At the gates of the Palais Royal the masses 
mounted guard night and day to prevent the ab- 
duction of the King. It was generally supposed 
that the Queen would try to follow the Cardinal. 

The Frondeurs were masters of Paris ; their hour 
had come, and they held it in their power to prove 
that they had led France into adventures because 
they had formed a plan which they considered 
better than the old plan. But if there were any 



392 The Youth of 

among them who were thinking of reform, their 
good intentions were not perceptible. The people 
of the past 'resembled the people of our day ; they 
thought little of the public suffering. Interest in 
the actions of the great, or in the actions of the 
people whose positions gave them relative great- 
ness, excluded interest in the general welfare. The 
rivalries and the personal efforts of the higher 
classes were the public events of France. Parlia- 
ment was working along its own lines, hoping to 
gain control of the State, to hold a monopoly of 
reforms, and to break away from the nobility. The 
nobility, jealous of the " long robes," had directly 
addressed the nation's depths : the bourgeoisie and 
the mobility. 

Retz had supreme hope: to be a Cardinal. Conde 
hoped to be Prime Minister. Gaston had staked a 
throw on all the games. Mme. de Longueville 
dreamed of new adventures ; and the Queen, still 
guided by her far-off lover, laboured in her own 
blind way upon a plan to benefit her little brood. 
She looked upon France, upon the people, and upon 
the Court as enemies ; she had concentrated her 
mind upon one object ; she meant to deceive them 
all and turn events to her own advantage. By the 
grace of the general competition of egotism, false- 
hood, broken promises, and treason, the autumn of 
165 1 found the Spaniards in the East, civil war in 
the West, the Court in hot pursuit of the rebels, 
want and disease stalking the land, and La Grande 
Mademoiselle still in suspense. In the spring dur- 



La Grande Mademoiselle 393 

ing a period of thirty-six hours she had supposed 
that she was about to marry Conde. Conde's wife 
had been grievously sick from erysipelas in the 
head ; to quote Mademoiselle's words : " The dis- 
ease was driven Inward, which gave people reason 
for saying that were she to die I might marry M. 
le Prince." 

At that critical moment Mademoiselle freely un- 
folded her hopes and fears ; she said : 

Madame la Princesse lingered in that extremity three days, 
and during all that time the marriage was the subject of my 
conversation with Prefontaine. We did not speak of anything 
else. We agitated all those questions. What gave me reason 
to speak of them was that, to add to all that I heard said, M. 
le Prince came to see me every day. But the convalescence 
of Madame la Princesse closed the chapter for the time being 
and no one thought of it any more. 

In the course of the summer the Princess Pala- 
tine, who supposed that she could do anything be- 
cause she had effected, or to say the least concluded 
the union of the Frondes, offered to marry Made- 
moiselle to the King " before the end of Septem- 
ber." Mme.de Cholsy, another prominent politician, 
exposed the conditions of the bargain to Made- 
moiselle, who recorded them in the following lucid 
terms : 

Mme. de Choisy said to me: " The Princess Palatine is such a 
blatant beggar that you will have to promise her three hun- 
dred ecus in case she makes your affair a success." I said 
"yes" to everything. "And," pursued Mme. de Choisy, "I wish 
my husband to be your Chancellor. We shall pass the time so 
agreeably, because la Palatine will be your steward ; you will 



394 The Youth of 

give her a salary of twenty thousand ^cus; she will sell all the 
offices in the gift of your house, — so you may imagine that it 
will be to her interest to make your affair succeed. We will 
have a play given at the Louvre every day. She will rule the 
King." Those were the words she used! One may guess how 
charmed I was at the idea of being in such a state of depend- 
ence! Evidently she thought that she was giving me the 
greatest pleasure in the world. 

Although Mademoiselle did not go as far as to 
say " no," she ceased to say "yes " to everything. 
Her reason for doino- so was baseless. She had ac- 
quired the conviction that the young King, Louis 
XIV., loved the tall cousin who seemed so old to 
his thirteen-year mind.^ La Grande Mademoiselle 
appalled him ; her abrupt ways and her explosions 
of anger drove back his timid head into its tender 
shell ; but she had persuaded herself that he wished 
to marry her. And she was so sure of her facts 
that she dropped the oars provided by Mme. de 
Choisy, and sat up proudly in her rudderless bark, 
without sail or compass. She believed that the 
King loved her, she was thankful to be at rest, and 
she left to her supposed lover the care of the royal 
betrothal ; she sighed ingenuously : " That way of 
becoming Queen would have pleased me more than 
the other." That is easily understood ; however, 
nothing came of it. Anne of Austria had sworn 
to her niece that she would give her the King ; but 
when Mademoiselle's back was turned she, the 
Queen, said stififly : " He would not be for her nose 
even were he well grown ! " ^ 

' He was less than thirteen years old. ' Me'moires, La Porte. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 395 

Mazarin had done well in supposing that there 
would be some advantage in intermarrying the 
junior branches as a means of ending the family 
quarrels. 

I have learned from different sources [he wrote to the 
Queen] that Mademoiselle's marriage to the King would ar- 
range everything. Le Tellier * came expressly to see me; he 
came from Retz and the Princess Palatine and for that very 
purpose. And the others also have written to me about it; but 
if the King and the Queen have the same feeling in regard to 
that matter that they did have, I do not think that it would 
be easy to arrange it (7th January, 1652). 

Mazarin dared not insist ; he felt that he was no 
longer in a posture where he could indulge in dis- 
pleasing exactions. While Parliament was render- 
ing decisions against Mazarin, the people close to the 
Queen were working to obliterate his image from 
her heart, and their efforts were successful.^ They 
occupied the Queen's mind with other friends, the 
thought of whom filled Mazarin with the torments 
of jealousy. He was in retreat in Briihl. May 
nth he wrote to the Queen : " I wish that I could 
express the hatred that I feel for the mischief- 
makers who are unceasingly working to make you 
forget me so that we shall never meet again." 

The 6th July Mazarin had heard that Lyonne 
had boasted that he pleased the Queen, and he 
wrote : 

* This name is of doubtful authenticity ; Mazarin's letters to the Queen 
are in cipher in some parts. In this book I have followed the text of 
M. Ravenel, Lettres dti Cardinal Mazarin a la Princesse Palatine, etc. 
(1651-1652). 

* Les Mimoires of Guy Joly and of Mme. de Nemours. 



39^ The Youth of 

If they could make me believe such a thing either I should 
die of grief or I should go away to the end of the world. If 
you could see me you would pity me . . . there are so many 
things to torment me so that I can hardly bear it. For instance, 
I know that you have several times asked Lyonne why he does 
not take the Cardmal' s apartments,^ showing your tenderness for 
him because he gets wet passing through the court. I have 
endured the horrors of two sleepless nights because of that! 

Mazarin spoke passionately of his love ; he told 
the Queen that he was "dying" for her; that his 
only joy was to read and re-read her letters, and 
that he " wept tears of blood " when they seemed 
cold ; although, as he said, he knew that no one on 
earth could break the tie that bound them. We 
have none of the Queen's answers, but we know 
that they called forth Mazarin's despairing declara- 
tion that he should return to Rome. Three weeks 
later the Oueen caused the Kingf to sien a declara- 
tion which the betrayed lover answered by a pathetic 
letter. 

26th September. I have taken my pen ten times to write to 
you ... I could not . . .1 could not . . , I am so 
wretched ... I am so beside myself at the mortal blow 
that you have given me, that I do not know that there will be 
any sense in what I say. By an authenticated act the King 
and the Queen have declared me a traitor, a public thief, a 
being inadequate to his office, an enemy to the repose of 
Christianity. . . . Even now that declaration is sounding 
all over Europe, and the most faithful, the most devoted Min- 
ister, is held up before the world as a scoundrel ... an 

' Mazarin's apartments in the Palais Royal, next to the Queen's apart- 
ments. Lyonne lodged in the rue Vivienne. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 397 

infamous villain. I no longer hope for happiness or for rest. 
I ask for nothing but my honour. Give that back to me and 
let them take the rest. . . . Let them strip me, even to 
my shirt ... I will renounce all — cardinalates — benefices, 
— everything! if I can stand with sustained honour . . . 
as I was before I dreamed of your love. 

Time passed, and Mazarin regained his senses, 
" made arrows of all sorts of wood," raised an 
army, and entered France. As he drew near Poi- 
tiers, where the Court was staying, the Queen's 
heart softened, and when he arrived she had been 
at her window an hour watching for him. 

IV 

In 165 1 Mademoiselle was busy. She attended 
all the sessions of Parliament and all the seditious 
soirees of the Luxembourg. She urged the Fron- 
deurs to violence, and as she was a magnetic 
speaker, her influence was great. Her leisure was 
given to the pleasures which Paris offers even in 
time of revolution. She accompanied the King 
in his walks and drives ; she rode with him to the 
hunt ; whenever he was in Paris they were together. 
Mademoiselle had again refused the hand of Charles 
II. of England. Charles was still waiting for his 
kingdom, but his interest in his future had been 
awakened ; his mind had developed, and he had 
determined to enter into possession of his States. 

Mademoiselle was courted and ardently admired. 
The people worshipped her, the popular voice 
echoed the spirit of the " Mazarinades " sung by 



398 The Youth of 

the street singers. Paris was determined to place 
her upon the Throne of France. Well employed 
though her time had been, she had done nothing 
to distinguish herself, nothing to give her a place 
among heroines like the Princesse de Conde and 
the enticing Mme. de Longueville. But the year 
1652 was on its way, and it was to bring her her long- 
awaited glory. 

After an unsuccessful attempt to make peace, 
Conde had again taken the field and called his 
allies, the Spaniards, to his assistance. He had 
carried on his parleys as he had carried on his chas- 
tisement of the suburbs, and his exactions had 
confirmed hostilities. Maddened by his failure, he 
had set out with eyes flaming to break the spirit of 
the people and to turn the absolute power insti- 
tuted by Richelieu to his own account Monsieur 
sustained him against the King. Retz and a party 
of Frondeurs were trying to make an c "liance with 
the Queen ; they were ready to consent to every- 
thing, even to the return of Mazarin. Parliament 
was working for France upon its own responsi- 
bility ; it opposed Conde as it opposed Mazarin. 
Mazarin had bought Turenne and led the army 
into the West to fight the rebels. Monsieur's ap- 
panage, the city of Orleans, was menaced by both 
parties, and it had called its Prince to its assist- 
ance. The people of Orleans had sent word to 
Paris that either Monsieur or Mademoiselle must 
go to Orleans at once : " If Monsieur could not go 
Mademoiselle must take his place." Mademoiselle 




VICOMTE DE TURENNE 



La Grande Mademoiselle 399 

heard the news and went to the Luxembourg- to 
see her father. She reported her visit thus : 

*' I found Monsieur very restless. He com- 
plained to me that M. le Prince's friends were 
persecuting him by trying to send him to Orleans ; 
he assured me that to abandon Paris would be to 
lose our cause. He declared that he would not go." 

The evening of the day of the visit thus re- 
ported when Mademoiselle was at supper in her 
own palace, an officer approached her and said in a 
low voice : " Mademoiselle, we are too happy ! it 
is you who are coming with us to Orleans." 

Mademoiselle's joy knew no bounds. She passed 
the greater part of the night preparing for the jour- 
ney. In the morning she implored the blessing of 
God upon her enterprise ; and that done, went to 
the Luxembourg to take leave of her father. She 
appeared before Monsieur dressed for the cam- 
paign and followed by her staff. Under the hel- 
mets of her field marshals appeared the bright eyes 
of women. Inquisitive people, all eager to see 
Mademoiselle depart for war, had assembled in and 
around the Luxembourg. Some of Monsieur's 
friends applauded ; others shrugged their shoul- 
ders. Monsieur was of too alert a mind to be blind 
to the ridiculous side of his daughter's chivalry, 
and thouorh his affections were sluesfish, he realised 
that he had set loose a dangerous spirit. He knew 
that Mademoiselle was an ardent enemy, that she 
was impetuous ; that she cared nothing for public 
opinion ; when once started what could arrest her 



400 The Youth of 

progress ? His paternalism overcame his prudence, 
and in a loud, commanding voice he ordered the 
astonished generals to obey Mademoiselle as if she 
were himself; then, dragging the most serious offi- 
cers of his staff into a far corner of the room where 
Mademoiselle could not hear him, he commanded 
them to hold his daughter in leash and prevent her 
from doing anything important " without explicit 
orders from her father." 

Mademoiselle was in high spirits ; her fair hair 
was coiled under her helmet, her cheeks glowed, 
and her eyes blazed ; the records of the day tell us 
that she was "every inch a handsome queen and 
soldier," that she was " dressed in grey," and that 
her habit was " all covered with military lace of 
pure gold." She took leave of her father amidst 
the hurrahs of the people, and all through the city 
her subjects wished her joy, called upon God to 
bless her arms, or blasphemously proclaimed that 
such a goddess had no need of the god of the 
priests. The day following her departure she was 
met by the escort sent forward in advance of her 
departure by the generals of the Fronde. She was 
received by them as chief of the army, and long 
after that time had passed with all its triumphs, she 
proudly noted the fact in her memoirs : 

" They were in the field and they all saluted me 
as their leader ! " 

To prove her authority she arrested the couriers 
and seized and read their despatches. At Toury, 
where the greater part of the army of the Fronde 



La Grande Mademoiselle 401 

was encamped, she presided over the council of 
war: The council was all that she could have 
wished it to be, and her advice was considered ad- 
mirable. After the council Mademoiselle gave 
orders for the march. In vain the grenerals re- 
peated her father's last instructions ; in vain they 
begged her to " await the consent of his Royal 
Highness." She laughed in their faces ; she cried 
'''En avant! " with the strength of her young lungs. 
All the trumpets of her army answered her ; the 
batons of the tambour majors danced before high 
Heaven ; and, fired by such enthusiasm as French 
soldiers never knew again until the Little Corporal 
called them to glory, the army of the Fronde took 
the road, lords, ladies, gallant gentlemen, and raw 
recruits. 

Night saw them gaily marching ; the next morn- 
ing they thundered at the gates of Orleans (27th 
March, 1652). 

Mademoiselle announced her presence, but the 
gates did not open. From the parapet of the ram- 
parts the garrison rendered her military honours ; 
she threatened, and the Governor of the city sent 
her bonbons. The people locked in the city hailed 
her with plaudits, but not a hinge turned. The 
authorities feared that to let in Mademoiselle 
would be to open the city 'to the entire army. 
Tired of awaiting the pleasure of the provost of 
the merchants. Mademoiselle, followed by Mes- 
dames de Fiesque and de Frontenac, her field 
marshals, went round the city close to the walls, 



402 The Youth of 

searching for some unguarded or weak spot where 
she might enter. All Orleans climbed upon the 
walls to watch the progress of the gallant and hand- 
some cavalier-maiden and her aids. It was an 
adventure ! Mademoiselle was happy ; she looked 
up at the people upon the walls and cried merrily, 
" I may have to break down the gates, or scale 
the walls, but I will enter ! " 

Thus, skirting the city close to the walls, the 
three ladies reached the banks of the river Loire, 
and the river-men ran up from their boats to meet 
them, and offered to break in a city gate which 
opened upon the quay. Mademoiselle thanked 
them, gave them sums of money, told them to 
begin their work, and the better to see them 
climbed upon a wine-butt. She recorded that feat, 
as she recorded all her feats, for the benefit of 
posterity : " I climbed the wine-butt like a cat ; I 
caught my hands on all the thorns, and I leaped 
all the hedges." Her gentlemen, who had followed 
her closely, surrounded her and implored her to re- 
turn to her staff. Their importunities exasperated 
her, and she ordered them back to their places 
before the principal gates. She animated the river- 
men to do their best, and they worked with a will. 
The people within the walls had become impatient, 
and while the river-men battered at the outside of 
the gates they battered at the inside. Gangs of 
men, reinforced by women, formed living wedges 
to help on the good work. Suddenly a plank 
gave way and an opening was made. Mademoi- 



La Grande Mademoiselle 403 

selle descended from her lookout, and the river- 
men gently carried her forward and helped her to 
enter the city. To quote her own words : 

As there was a great deal of very bad dirt on the ground, a 
valet-de-pied lifted me from the ground and urged me through 
the opening; and as soon as my head appeared the people 
began to beat the drums. ... I heard cries . . . 
^^ Vive le Rot .'" ^^ Vive les Princes J" , . . "Poin^de Mazarin/" 
Two men seated me on a wooden chair, and so glad was I 
so beside myself with joy, that I did not know 
whether I was in the chair or on the arm of it! Every one 
kissed my hands, and I nearly swooned with laughter to find 
myself in such a pleasant state! 

The people were transported with delight ; they 
carried her in procession ; a company of soldiers, 
with drums beating, marched before the proces- 
sion to clear the way. Mmes. de Fiesque and de 
Frontenac trudged after their leader through the 
" quantity of very bad dirt," surrounded by the 
people, who did not cease to caress them because, 
as is explicitly stated, " they looked upon the two 
fairly beautiful ladies as curiosities." The local 
contemporary chronicles lead us to suppose that 
the people were not the only ones who indulged in 
kisses on that occasion ; the beautiful Comtesse 
de Fiesque is said to have kissed the river-men ; 
she was in gallant spirits ; la Frontenac finished 
the last half of her promenade with "one shoe off 
and one shoe on," though the legendary dumpling 
supposed to attend a parade in " stocking feet " was 
lacking. 



404 The Youth of 

After events had resumed their regular course, 
the people wrote and sung a song which was 
known all over France : 

Deux jeunes et belles comtesses, 

Ses deux raarechales de camp, 
Suiverent sa royale altesse 

Dont on faisait un grand cancan. 

Fiesque, cette bonne comtesse! 

Allait baisant les bateliers; 
Et Frontenac (quelle detresse!) 

Y perdit un de ses souliers. 

On the way to the Hotel de Ville the procession 
met the city authorities, who stood speechless be- 
fore them. Mademoiselle feigned to believe that 
they had started to open the gates. She greeted 
them blandly, listened to their addresses, returned 
their greetings, and closed a very successful day by 
sending a triumphant message to her father. One 
by one her staff had entered by the broken gate, 
and the generals saluted her with heads low ; they 
were abashed ; they had taken no part in the cap- 
ture of Orleans. 

The Orleanists were firm in their refusal to let 
the army enter the city, and the young general, 
accepting the situation, ordered her troops to 
encamp where they were, outside of the chief 
gates of the city. The following day at seven 
o'clock in the morning. Mademoiselle, enthroned 
upon the summit of one of the city's towers, looked 
down scornfully upon " a quantity of people of the 



La Grande Mademoiselle 405 

Court " who had hurried after her hoping to share 
her victory. The people of Orleans were quick to 
catch the spirit of their Princess ; they climbed upon 
the city walls and jeered at the wornout laggards, 
and Mademoiselle's cup of joy was full. She looked 
with delight upon the discomfiture of the belated 
courtiers and upon the envious tears of the travel- 
stained ladies. 

That day she made her first appearance as an 
orator. Her memoirs tell us that at first she was *' as 
timid as a girl " ; then, regaining her self-possession, 
she expounded the theories of the Fronde and told 
the people why the nobles had arisen to deliver the 
country from the foreigner. When she had said 
all that she had to say she returned to her quarters. 
In her absence the Due de Beaufort had sallied out, 
attacked a city, and been repulsed. Mademoiselle 
was indignant ; she had not given de Beaufort or- 
ders to leave the camp. She called a court-mar- 
tial to try him for insubordination and breach of 
discipline. Court was convened very early in the 
morning, in a wine-shop outside of the city. De- 
spite the long skirts of the field marshals, it was a 
stormy meeting. Messieurs de Beaufort and de 
Nemours came to words, and from words to blows. 
They tore off each other's wigs ; they drew their 
swords. Mademoiselle's hands were full. She 
passed that day and the night which followed it 
in strenuous efforts to calm the tumult. All the 
people within hearing of the melee had hastened 
to the field of action, and being on the spot and in 



4o6 The Youth of 

fighting trim, every man had seized his occasion 
and settled his difficuhy with his neighbour, and all, 
civil and military, had fought equally well. 

The 30th, letters of congratulation arrived from 
Paris. Monsieur wrote : " My daughter, you have 
saved my appanage, you have assured the peace of 
Paris ; this is the cause of public rejoicing. You 
are in the mouths of the people. All say that your 
act did justice to the Granddaughter of Henry the 
Great." This, from her father, was praise. Conde 
supplemented it : " It was your work and due to 
you alone, and it was a move of the utmost impor- 
tance." 

Mademoiselle's officers assured her that she had 
" the eye of a general," and she accepted as truth 
all that they told her and considered it all her due. 
About that time she wrote to some one at Court a 
letter which she intended for the eyes of the Queen, 
and in the letter she said in plain words that she 
intended to espouse the King of France, and that 
any one — no matter who it might be — would be 
unwise to attempt to thwart her wishes, because she, 
Mademoiselle, held it in her power to put affairs 
in such a state that people would be compelled to 
beg favours of her on their knees.^ Anne of Aus. 
tria read the letter and scoffed at it. 

Despite her brilliant debuts. Mademoiselle was 
tired of life. The authorities of Orleans considered 
her a girl, and no one in the city government hon- 
oured her orders. Her account of those days is a 

* Motteville. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 407 

record of paroxysms : "I was angry ! . . . I 
flew into a passion. ... I was in a rage. . . . 
I berated them furiously. ... I was so angry 
that I wept ! " 

Yes, Mademoiselle, whose will had been law to the 
people of Paris, could not make the people of Or- 
leans obey her. In answer to her commands the 
town authorities sent her sweetmeats, bonbons, 
and fair words. When Mademoiselle commanded 
them, they answered: "Just what Mademoiselle 
pleases we shall do ! " and having given their an- 
swer, they acted to please themselves. The gen- 
eral commanding the army of the Fronde was 
ill-at-ease, sick for Paris, tired of Orleans. She 
begged to be permitted to leave Orleans, but her 
father commanded her to remain. He enjoyed her 
absence. She had tried in vain to persuade him to 
relieve her of her command ; human nature could 
endure no more ; forgetting her first duty as a sol- 
dier, she disobeyed orders and joined the army of 
the Fronde at Etampes (May 2d). The weather 
was perfect ; she had escaped from Orleans, she 
was on her horse, surrounded by her ladies. All 
the generals and " a quantity of officers " had gone 
on before, and she could see them, as in a vision, 
in the golden dust raised by the feet of their horses ; 
the cannon of the fortified towns thundered, the 
drums of her own army rolled ; she was in her ele- 
ment ; she was a soldier ! Conde once told her, 
when speaking of a march which she had ordered, 
that Gustavus Adolphus could not have done better. 



4o8 The Youth of 

The morning after her arrival at Etampes she 
went to Mass on foot, preceded by a mihtary 
band.^ After Mass she presided at a council of war, 
mounted. After the council she rode down the 
line and her troops implored her to lead them to 
battle. 

The review over, she turned her horse toward 
Paris, not knowing that Turenne had planned to 
circumvent the army of the Fronde. Turenne 
knew that the presence of the Amazons distracted 
the young generals, and he considered the moment 
favourable to his advance. Near Bourg la Reine 
Conde appeared, followed by his staff. Immedi- 
ately after his return from the South he had set out 
for Etampes to salute the General-in-Chief of the 
army of the Fronde. 

The people had missed their Princess. In her 
absence they had rehearsed the sorrows of her life, 
and she had become doubly dear to them ; they had 
magnified her trials and idealised her virtues ; they 
had gloried in her exploits. Relaying one another 
along the road beyond the city's gates, they had 
waited for her coming. At last, after many days, 
the outposts of the canaille descried the upright 
grey figure followed by the glittering general staff 
and guarded by the staff of Conde. 

The beloved of the people, insulted by the Queen, 
despoiled by the Queen's lover of the right of 
woman to a husband, imprisoned and forsaken by 
her father in her hour of need, had risen above 

' Mademoiselle's memoirs. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 409 

humanity ! She had been a heroine, she had for- 
given all her enemies, had captured Orleans, had 
assured the safety of her own city, — and now she 
had come home ! They laid their cheeks to the 
flanks of her horse ; they clasped the folds of her 
habit ; and a cry arose from their wasted throats 
that scared the wild doves in the blighted woods 
along the highway. Mademoiselle had come 
home! '''Vive Anne-Marie-Lottise^ la petite-fille 
de la France ! " 

Anne - Marie - Louise d'Orleans, Duchesse de 
Montpensier, who had taken a stronghold unaided 
save by a few boatmen, heard thanksgiving on all 
hands, and to crown her joy — for she loved to 
dance — the city gave a great fete in her honour. 
But there was one bitter drop in her cup : her father 
had been made sick by her arrival. He dared not 
punish her in the face of the people's joy ; but he 
retired to his bed and abandoned himself to the 
pangs of colic and, when Mademoiselle, flushed 
with pride, arrived at the Luxembourg, he refused 
to see her ; he sent word to her to " Begone !" he 
was "too sick to talk of affairs of State." 



Monsieur had cares of various species. Conde 
and his associates had forced him to take a prom- 
inent position in politics, and his terror of possible 
consequences made his life a torment. Conde was 
deep in treasonable plots. He had returned from 



4IO The Youth of 

his Southern expedition flaming with anger ; he had 
goaded the people to the verge of fury, and re- 
duced Parhament to such a state that it had ad- 
journed its assembhes without mention of further 
sessions. He had made all possible concessions to 
the foreigners ; he had so terrified Monsieur that 
the unhappy Prince saw an invasion in every cor- 
ner. But Gaston had still another master ; he had 
fallen a victim to the machinations of the wily 
Retz. For reasons of his own, the Archbishop's 
coadjutor had found it expedient to familiarise 
Monsieur with the canaille, and he had so im- 
pressed the people with the idea that "d'Orleans" 
sympathised with them that they fawned upon 
Gaston and dogged his footsteps. An incoming 
and outgoing tide of ignoble people thronged the 
Luxembourg. Monsieur's visitors were the lowest 
of the mobility, and they forced their way even into 
his bed-chamber. They sat by him while his coiffeur 
dressed his hair, they assisted at his colics, and of- 
ficiously dropped sugar in his cafd-au-lait. Among 
his visitors were ex-convicts, half-grown daughters 
of the pavement, and street urchins, and they all 
offered him advice, sympathised with him, urged 
him to take courage, and assured him of their pro- 
tection, until Gaston, helpless in his humiliation, 
writhed in his bed. When he had been alone and 
free from the sharp scrutiny of his natural critic, 
his daughter, his lot had been hard, but with 
Mademoiselle at hand it was torment. Made- 
moiselle was a general of the army ; she had taken 



La Grande Mademoiselle 411 

her father's place ; she felt that her exploits had 
given her the right to speak freely, and one day 
when she visited Madame (she told the story her- 
self), she "rated her like a dog." Madame was in 
her own apartment ; she studied her complaints, 
sipped her " tisanes," swathed her head in aroma- 
tised linen, and neither saw nor heard the droning 
of the throngs who buzzed like flies about her 
husband. 

It is worthy of note that the princes did not 
forecast the future. Reason ought to have shown 
them that the revolution would sweep them away 
as it swept all else should not Royalty intervene 
in their behalf. The Canaille was mistress of the 
streets, and her means was always violent. Her 
leaders were strong men. In 1651 she had her 
Marats and her Heberts, who used their pens to 
incite France to massacre ; and her Maillards, who 
urged her on to pillage the homes of the nobility 
and to fell, as an ox is felled in the shambles, all, 
however innocent, whom it served their purpose to 
call suspicious. Such men did bloody work, and 
they did not ask what the nobles thought of it. 
Insolent, on fire with hate, lords of a day ! they 
sprang from the slimy ooze with the first menace 
of Revolution to vanish with the Revolution when 
the last head rolled in the sawdust ; cruel, but 
useful instruments, used by immutable Justice to 
avenge the wrongs of a tormented people ! 

When Mademoiselle returned from Orleans Paris 



412 The Youth of 

wore the aspect of the early days of the Terror. 
Even the peaceable and naturally thrifty sat in 
idleness, muttering prayers for help or for ven- 
geance, either to God or to the devil. All were 
afraid. The people of the Bourgeoisie had set 
their faces against the entrance of Conde's troops. 
The devastated suburbs were still in evidence ; it 
was supposed that Conde would bring with him 
drunkenness, rapine, fire, and all the other horrors 
of a military possession. So matters stood when 
the army of the King and the army of the Fronde, 
after divers combats for divers issues, fought the 
fight which gave Mademoiselle her glory. 

She was then the Queen of Paris. Her palace 
was the political centre as well as the social centre 
of France. Of those days she said : 

" I was honoured to the last point. I was held 
in great consideration." Yes, she was "honoured," 
but the honour was in name only ; the ceremonial 
was all that there was of it and — worst of all for 
her proud heart — she knew that it was so. It was 
the affair of Orleans over again. In Orleans, 
when she had issued orders, the city government 
had sent her bonbons, paid her compliments, and 
followed their own counsel. They had answered 
blandly, " As Mademoiselle pleases " ; but, in point 
of fact. Mademoiselle was of no practical impor- 
tance. To her, flattery and fine words ; to others, 
confidence and influence. The statesmen thought 
that she was neither discreet nor capable of wise 
counsel. She was too frank and too upright to be 



La Grande Mademoiselle 413 

useful as a politician. Monsieur hid his secrets 
from her. Conde's manner told her everything, 
but he never gave her the assurance which would 
have established her on firm ground ; and, looking 
practically upon that matter, what assurance could 
he have given her ? What, in honour, was he free 
to say? 

The Prince de Conde, who was continually 
spoken of as Mademoiselle's possible husband, paid 
hypothetical court to Mademoiselle, but when he 
had serious subjects to discuss he carried them to 
the salon of the beautiful Duchesse de Chatillon, 
who was then the rising star of the political world 
of Paris. Mesdames de Lono-ueville and de Chev- 
reuse were setting suns, and very close to the hori- 
zon. Ignoring Mademoiselle, they had made an 
independent attempt to reconcile the princes and 
restore them to the good graces of the Court ; 
their attempt had failed. The Duchesse de Mont- 
pensier was the only one at Court who had main- 
tained friendly relations with the princes. 

One night, in the Cours la Reine, Mademoiselle 
found herself close to a marching army. Conde's 
troops, pressed by Turenne, were hurrying into 
Paris close to the ramparts (which then stood 
where we now see the Place de la Concorde and 
the great boulevards). 

Mademoiselle was mounted ; she was talking 
with an officer. She watched the winding line 
of the troops thoughtfully, and when the Cours 



414 The Youth of 

hid it from view she went into Renard's garden, 
where she could watch it out of sight. Her heart 
ached with forebodings ; the army had marched 
in disorder at the pace of utter rout and with 
flank exposed. She wrote in her memoirs : 

All the troops passed the night beside the moat\ and as 
there were no buildings between them and my lodgings, I 
could hear their trumpets distinctly. As I could distinguish 
the different calls, I could see the order in which they were 
moving. I remained at my window two hours after the bells 
rang midnight, hearing them pass, — and with grief enough I 
listened! because I was thinking of all that might happen. 
But in all my grief I had, I know not what strange presenti- 
ment, — I knew that I should help to draw them out of their 
trouble. 

Mademoiselle had intended to take a medicine 
which she considered necessary, but as she thought 
that it might interfere with her usefulness, she 
countermanded the doctor's orders. On what a 
slender thread hangs glory ! 

July 2d, at six o'clock in the morning, some one 
knocked at Mademoiselle's door, and Mademoiselle 
sprang from her bed but half awake. Conde had 
sent to ask for help. He was with his army held 
at bay against the closed gates of Paris attacked 
by the army of de Turenne. The messenger had 
been sent to Monsieur, but Monsieur, declaring 
that he was in agony, had refused to see him. On 
that answer the messenger sped to the palace of 
the Tuileries. Mademoiselle dressed and hurried 
to the Luxembourg. As she entered the palace 

' The city ditch. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 415 

Monsieur came down the stairs, and Mademoiselle 
attacked him angrily ; she accused him of dis- 
loyalty, and reproached him for his pretence of 
sickness. Gaston assured her calmly : " I am sick ; 
I am not sick enough to be in bed, but I am too 
sick to leave this house." 

*' Either mount your horse or go to bed ! " cried 
Mademoiselle. She stormed, she wept, all in a 
breath (as she always did when she could not force 
her father to do his duty), but Monsieur was a 
coward and nature was too strong to be controlled : 
she could not move him. Retz had worked upon 
Gaston's cowardice as a means of furthering his 
own plans ; his plans included the death of Conde 
and the failure of the Fronde ; therefore tortures 
would not have drawn Gaston from his house upon 
that occasion, even had he favoured intervention in 
behalf of Conde. 

Long before the messenger of Monsieur le 
Prince had knocked at the door of the Tuileries, 
the army of the Fronde, at bay against the wall of 
the city, had awaited the word required to open the 
gates of Paris. Still another hour had passed and 
Mademoiselle's endeavour had been vain. Years 
after she recorded the fact with sorrow : " I had 
begged an hour, and I knew that in that time all 
my friends might have been killed — Conde as well 
as the others ! . . . and no one cared ; that 
seemed to me hard to bear ! " 



41 6 The Youth of 

While Mademoiselle was imploring her father to 
help her Conde's friends arrived ; they beset Gaston 
and commanded him to send help at once to the 
Faubourg Saint Antoine. Conde and his men were 
fighting for their lives ; the people of the Fau- 
bourg had mounted the heights to see the battle. 

Gaston was exasperated, and to rid himself of 
the importunities of his party he ordered his daugh- 
ter to go to the Hotel de Ville and tell the au- 
thorities that he commanded them to issue an order 
to open the gates. As Mademoiselle ran through 
the streets the bourgeois, who had gathered in 
groups to give each other countenance, begged her 
for passports ; they were ready to leave the city. 

A half-starved, ragged mob filled the Place de 
Greve ; the canaille blocked the adjoining streets. 
The palace was like an abandoned barrack. The 
sunlight fell upon the polished locks of the old 
muskets of the League, and not a head dared ap- 
proach the windows. Mademoiselle ran through 
the mob and entered the Hotel de Ville. Let her 
tell her errand in her own way : 

They were all there; the provost of the merchants, the 
aldermen, the Marechal de I'Hopital, the Governor . . . 
and I cried to them: " Monsieur le Prince is in peril of death 
in our faubourgs! What grief, what eternal shame it would be 
to us were he to perish for lack of our assistance! You have 
it in your power to help him! Do it then, and quickly! " 

They went into the council-room. Mademoi- 
selle fell upon her knees at the open window, and, 
in silence, the people watched her ; they were on 



._|r 










LA ROCHEFOUCAULD 

FROM A STEEL ENGRAVING 



La Grande Mademoiselle 4^7 

guard, waiting for her orders. In the church of 
Saint Gervais priests were offering the Mass ; she 
could hear them and she tried to pray. Minutes 
had passed and nothing had been done. She arose 
from her knees and, entering the council-room, 
urged the men to act ; she implored, she threat- 
ened ; then, hurrying back to the window, she fell 
upon her knees. Rising for the last time, pale 
and resolute, she entered the council-room ; she 
pointed to the Greve where the people stood with 
eyes fixed upon the windows, then, stretching her 
arm high above her head, she cried violently : " Sign 
that order ! or — / swear it by iny Exalted Name ! 
I will call in my people and let them teach you 
what to do ! " 

They fell upon the paper like wolves upon a 
lamb, and an Instant later Mademoiselle, grasping 
the order, hurried up the rue Saint Antolne to open 
the city's gates. 

Not far from the Hotel de Ville a cavalier in a 
blood-stained doublet, blinded by blood from a 
wound In his forehead, passed her, led like a child 
between two soldiers ; both of the soldiers were 
weeping : It was La Rochefoucauld. 

Mademoiselle called his name, but he did not 
answer. At the entrance to the rue Saint Antolne 
another wounded man appeared, bareheaded, with 
blood-stained raiment; a man walking beside him 
held him on his horse. Mademoiselle asked him i 



4i8 The Youth of 

" Shalt thou die of thy wounds ? " he tried to move 
his head as he passed on. He was " Httle Guiteau," 
Mademoiselle's friend who had carried the "olive 
branch " to Conde's prison. But they were coming 
so fast that it was hard to count them — another 
— then another! Mademoiselle said: "I found 
them in the rue Saint Antoine at every step ! and 
they were wounded everywhere . . . head . . . 
arms . . . legs ! . . . they were on horse 
— on foot — on biers — on ladders — on litters ! Some 
of them were dead." 

An aristocratic procession ! The quality of 
France, sacrificed in the supreme attempt against 
man's symbol of God's omnipotence : the Royalty 
of the King ! 

By the favour of the leader of the tradesmen the 
gates of Paris had opened to let pass the high 
nobility, Paris enjoyed the spectacle. The ram- 
parts swarmed with sightseers; and Louis XIV., 
guarded by Mazarin, looked down upon them all 
from the heights of Charonne. 



The soldiers of the Fronde had had enough ! 
Crying, " Let the chiefs march ! " they broke ranks. 
So it came to pass that all who fought that day 
were nobles. The faubourg saw battalions formed 
of princes and seigniors, and the infantry who 
manned the barricades bore the mighty names of 
ancient France. Conde was their leader and, cul- 
pable though he had been, that day he purged his 



La Grande Mademoiselle 419 

crimes against the country by giving France one of 
the visions of heroism which exalt the soul. 



Conde was everywhere ! ** A demon !" said the 
soldiers of the King ; " superhuman " his own men 
called him. Like the preux chevaliers of the 
legends, he plunged into the fray, went down and 
rose with cuirass dented and red with blood, to 
plunge and to come forth again. 

The friends dearest to his heart fell at his feet, 
and still he bore his part. He fought with all- 
mastering courage ; he inspired his men ; and the 
stolid bourgeois and the common people upon the 
ramparts, moved to great pity, cried out with in- 
dignation that it was a shame to France to leave 
such a man to perish. That combat was like a 
dream to the survivors. Conde's orders were so 
sharp and clear that they rang like the notes of a 
trumpet ; his action was miraculous, and in after 
years, when his officers talked of Roland or of 
Rodrigue, they asserted, to the astonishment of 
their hearers, that they had known both those re- 
doubtable warriors and fought in their company on 
many a hard won, or a hard lost, field. To their 
minds there was neither Rodrigue nor Roland ; they 
knew but one hero, and he was " Conde." 

That day in the Faubourg Saint Antoine, at the 
gates of Paris, bathed with the blood and the sweat 
of the combat, when he had all but swooned in his 



420 The Youth of 

cuirass, he rushed from the field, stripped, and 
rolled in the grass as a horse rolls ; then slipped 
into his war harness and took his place at the head 
of his army, as fresh as he had been before the 
battle. 

But neither his courage nor his strength could 
have saved him, and he, and all his men, would 
have perished by the city ditch if Mademoiselle 
had not forced Paris to open the gates. 

Some one living in the rue Saint Antoine offered 
Mademoiselle shelter, and she retired an instant 
from the field. Soon after she entered her refuge 
Conde visited her and she thus recorded her impres- 
sions of the day : 

As soon as I entered the house M. le Prince came in to 
see me. He was in piteous case. His face was covered with 
dust two inches deep; hi-s hair was tangled, and although he 
had not been wounded, his collar and shirt were full of blood. 
His cuirass was dented; he held his bare sword in his hand; 
he had lost the scabbard. He gave his sword to my equerry 
and said to me: "You see before you a despairing man! I 
have lost all my friends! "... Then he fell weeping upon 
a chair and begged me to forgiye him for showing his sorrow, 
— and to think that people say that Conde cannot love! I 
have always known that he can love, and that when he loves 
he is fond and gentle. 

Mademoiselle spoke to Conde of the battle. 
They agreed upon a plan for ending it, and 
Conde returned to the field to lead the retreat. 
Mademoiselle went to the window to watch the 
men take out the baggage and make ready for the 
march. She could see the guns. The people of 




PRINCE DE CONDE 



La Grande Mademoiselle 421 

the faubourgs carried drink to the men in the ranks 
and tried to help the wounded ; and she who had 
been taught to ignore the emotions and the actions 
of inferiors wept when she saw the famished people 
of the lower orders depriving themselves to com- 
fort the men who had laid waste the suburbs ; 
Conde and his troops were well known to them all. 
Disgust for the prevailing disorder had turned 
the thoughts of the bourgeois toward Mazarin, 
whose earlier rule had given the nation a taste of 
peace. Mademoiselle, who knew nothing of the 
bourgeois, was aghast at their indifference to the 
sufferings of the wounded. The men of peace 
looked with curiosity upon the battle; some laughed 
aloud ; others stood upon the ramparts and fired 
upon the retreating Frondeurs. Mademoiselle left 
her window but once ; then she ran through the 
rue Saint Antoine to the Bastille, and, climbing to 
the summit of the tower, looked through the glass. 
The battle was raging ; she saw the order given to 
cut off Conde, and, commanding the gunners to 
train their guns on the King's army, she returned 
to her post, veiled by smoke and choked by powder, 
to enjoy her glory ; and it was glory enough. Twice 
in the same day she had saved M. le Prince. As 
one man the retreating army of the Fronde turned 
to salute her, and all cried: ''Yotc have delivered 
us ! " Conde was so grateful that his voice failed 
him. 

That evening at the Luxembourg, and the even- 



42 2 The Youth of 

ing following, at the Tuileries, after a night robbed 
of sleep by thoughts of the dead and the wounded 
of her army, Mademoiselle heard praise which called 
her back to the demands of life. 

Her father did not address her, and his manner 
repelled her advances. Toward evening, when he 
supposed that all danger had passed, he went to 
congratulate Conde. His bearing was gay and 
pleasant and his face was roguish and smiling. In 
the evening his expression changed, and Made- 
moiselle noted the change and explained it to his 
credit ; she said : " I attributed that change to his 
repentance. He was thinking that he had let me 
do what he ought to have done." We know that 
Gaston was not given to repentance ; all that he re- 
gretted was that he had permitted his daughter to 
take an important place among the active agents 
of the Fronde ; he was envious and spiteful ; 
but neither envy nor spite could have been 
called his ruling failing ; his prevailing emotion 
was fear. 

The 4th July the bourgeois of Paris met in the 
Hotel de Ville to decide upon future action. The 
city was without a government. The princes, Mon- 
sieur, and Conde attended the meeting ; they sup- 
posed that the Assembly would appoint them 
Directors of Public Affairs. The supposition was 
natural enough. However, the Assembly ignored 
them and discussed plans for a reconciliation with 
the Regency, and they, the princes, retired from 
the meeting furiously angry. When they went out 




DUG D'ORLEANS 



La Grande Mademoiselle 423 

the Greve was full of people ; in the crowd were 
officers of the army, soldiers, and priests/ 

Several historians have said that the princes, or 
their following, incited the people to punish the 
bourgeois for the slight offered by them to their 
natural directors. No one knew how it began. As 
Monsieur and Conde left the Greve and crossed 
the river, shots were fired behind them. They 
went their way without looking back. Mademoi- 
selle was awaiting them at the Luxembourg. Her 
account of the night's work follows : 

As it was very warm. Monsieur entered his room to change 
his shirt. The rest of the company were talking quietly when 
a bourgeois came in all out of breath; he could hardly speak, 
he had come so fast and in such fear. He said to us: "The 
Hotel de Ville is burning and they are firing guns; they are 
killing each other." Conde went to call Monsieur, and Mon- 
sieur, forgetting the disorder in which he was, came into the 
room in his shirt, before all the ladies. Monsieur said to 
Conde: " Cousin, do you go over to the Hotel de Ville." 
But Conde refused to go, and when he would not go to quiet 
the disturbance people had reason to say that he had planned 
the whole affair and paid the assassins. 

That was what was unanimously declared. It 
was the most barbarous action known since the 
beginning of the Monarchy.^ Outraged in his pride 
and in his will because the bourgeois had dared to 
offer him resistance, the splendid hero of the Fau- 
bourg Saint Antoine, at the fatal moment, fell to 
the level of Septembrist ; and as Monsieur must 

' Memoir es of Conrart and the Registres deV Hotel de Ville. 
- Omer Talon. 



424 The Youth of 

have known all about it, and as he did nothing to 
prevent it, he was Conde's accomplice. 

As de Beaufort was on excellent terms with the 
mob, the princes sent him to the Hotel de Ville ; 
he set out upon his mission and Mademoiselle, who 
had followed close upon his heels, loitered and list- 
ened to the comments of the people. When she 
returned and told her father what she had heard 
Gaston was terrified ; he ordered her to go back to 
the HCtel de Ville and reconnoitre. 

It was long past midnight, and the streets were 
deserted. The Hotel de Ville was a ruin ; the 
doors and windows were gone, and the flames 
were still licking the charred beams ; the interior 
had been pillaged. " I picked my way," said 
Mademoiselle, " among the planks ; they were still 
flaming. I had never seen such a desolate place ; 
we looked everywhere, but we could see no one." 
They were about to leave the ruins when the pro- 
vost of the merchants emerged from his hiding- 
place (probably in the cellar) with the men who 
had been with him. 

Mademoiselle found them a safe lodging and 
went back to her palace. Day had dawned ; 
people were gathering in the Place de Greve ; 
some were trying to identify the dead. Among 
the dead were priests, members of Parliament, and 
between thirty and forty bourgeois. Many had 
been wounded. 

The people blessed Mademoiselle, but she turned 



La Grande Mademoiselle 425 

sorrowfully away. She thought that nothing could 
atone for such a murder. She said of the event : 

People spoke of that affair in different ways ; but however 
they spoke, they all agreed in blaming his Royal Highness 
and M. le Prince. I never mentioned it to either of them, 
and I am very glad not to know anything about it, because if 
they did wrong I should be sorry to know it; and that action 
displeased me so that I could not bear to think that any one 
so closely connected with me could not only tolerate the 
thought of such a thing, but do it. That blow was the blow 
with the club; it felled the party. 

Immediately after the fire, when the city was 
panic-stricken, M. le Prince's future promised suc- 
cess ; he had every reason to hope. Many of the 
political leaders had left Paris, and taking advan- 
tage of that fact, and of the general fear, Conde 
marshalled the debris of the Parliament, and they 
nominated a cabinet. Gaston was the nominal 
head ; Conde was generalissimo. The Hotel de 
Ville had been repaired, the cabinet was installed 
there, and Broussel was provost of merchants, but 
the knock-down " blow with the club " had made his 
power illusory. Generally the public conscience 
was callous enough where murders were concerned, 
but it rebelled against the murder of 4th July. The 
common saying in Paris was that the affair was 
a cowardly trap, deliberately set. Public opinion 
was firm, and the Conde party fell. Before the 
massacre the country had been tired of civil war. 
After the massacre it abhorred it. The people saw 
the Fronde in its true light. With the exception 



426 The Youth of 

of a few members of Parliament, — patriots and 
would-be humanitarians, — who had thought of 
France ? The two junior branches, or the nobility ? 
They had called the Spaniards to an alliance against 
Frenchmen, and, to further their selfish interests, 
they had led their own brothers into a pitfall. 

Who had cared for the sufferings of the people ? 
The Fronde had been a deception practised upon 
the country ; a systematic scheme fostered by men 
and women for personal benefit. To the labourer 
hunted from his home to die in the woods, to the 
bourgeois whose business had been tied up four 
years, what mattered it that the wife of La Roche- 
foucauld was seated before the Queen ? Was it 
pleasure to the people dying of famine to know 
that M. de Longueville was drawing a salary as 
Governor of Pont de I'Arche ? A fine consolation, 
truly ! it clothed and fed the children, it brought 
back the dead, to maintain a camp of tinselled 
merry-makers, " among whom nothing could be 
seen but collations of gallantry to women." 

Those were not new reflections, but they had 
acquired a force which acted directly upon the cur- 
rents established by Mazarin ; and just at the mo- 
ment when the people awoke to their meaning, the 
Queen's clairvoyant counsellor removed the last 
scruple from the public conscience by voluntarily 
returning to his exile (19th August). 

Then came the general break-up. Every man of 
any importance in Paris raised his voice ; deputies 
were sent to ask the King to recall Mazarin. Retz, 



La Grande Mademoiselle 427 

whose manners had accommodated themselves to 
his hat, was among the first to demand the re- 
call, and his demand was echoed by his clergy. 
Monsieur (and that was a true sign) judged that 
the time had come to part company with his asso- 
ciates ; he engaged in private negotiations with 
the Court. The soldiers vanished ; Conde, feeling 
that his cause was lost, essayed to make peace, and 
failed, as he always failed, because no one could ac- 
cept such terms as he offered. As his situation 
was critical, his friends shunned him. Mademoiselle 
still clung to him, and she was loved and honoured ; 
but, as it was known that she lacked judgment, her 
fondness for him did not prove anything in his 
favour. 

Mademoiselle was convinced of her own ability ; 
she knew that she was a great general. She formed 
insensate projects. One of her plans was to raise, 
to equip, and to maintain an army at her own ex- 
pense : " The Army of Mademoiselle." Such an 
army would naturally conquer difficulties. Some 
foreign Power would surrender a strong city, — or 
even two strong cities ; and then the King of France 
would recognise his true interests, and capitulate 
to the tall cousin who had twice saved Conde and 
taken Orleans single-handed, — and at last, after 
all her trials, having done her whole duty, she 
would drain the last drops of her bitter draught, 
and find the closed crown lying at the bottom 
of her cup, — unless — There was a very power- 
ful alternative. Mademoiselle's mind vacillated 



428 The Youth of 

between the King of France and the great French 
hero : M. le Prince de Conde. An alHance with 
Conde was among the possibiHties. The physical 
condition of Conde's wife permitted a hope, — 
twice within a period of two weeks she had been at 
death's door. On the last occasion Paris had been 
informed of her condition in the eveningr, 

o 

I was at Renard's Garden [wrote Mademoiselle]. M. le 
Prince was with me. We strolled twice through the alleys 
without speaking one word. I thought that probably he was 
thinking that every one was watching him, — and I believed 
that I was thinking of just what he was thinking, — so we were 
both very much embarrassed. 

That night the courtiers paid court to Made- 
moiselle, — they spoke freely of the re-marriage of 
M. le Prince, — in short, they did everything but 
congratulate her in plain words. 

Though Mademoiselle knew that her fairy tales 
were false, she half believed in them. In her heart 
she felt that her heroinate — if I may use the term 
— was drawing to a close, and she desired to enjoy 
all that remained to her to the full. In her ardour 
she made a spectacle of herself. She appeared with 
her troops before Paris, playing with her army as 
a child plays with leaden soldiers. She loved to 
listen to the drums and trumpets, and to look upon 
the brilliant uniforms. One night M. le Prince in- 
vited her to dine at his headquarters, and she 
arrived, followed by her staff. She never forgot 
that evening. "The dirtiest man in the world" 
had had his hair and his beard trimmed, and put 



La Grande Mademoiselle 429 

on white linen in her honour, — " which made great 
talk." Conde and his staff drank to her health 
kneeling, while the trumpets blared and the cannon 
thundered. She reviewed the army and pressed for- 
ward as far as the line of the royal pickets. Of 
that occasion she said : " I spoke to the royal troops 
some time, then I urged my horse forward, for I 
had great longing to enter the camp of the enemy. 
M. le Prince dashed on ahead of me, seized my 
horse's bridle, and turned me back." 

That evening she published the orders of the day, 
did anything and everything devolving upon any and 
all of the officers on duty, and proved by look and 
by word that she was a true soldier. When it was 
all over she rode back to Paris in the moonlight, 
followed by her staff and escorted by Conde and 
his general officers. The evening ended with a gay 
supper at the Tuileries. 

That visit went to her head, and a few days later 
she besought her father to hang the chiefs of the 
Reaction. " Monsieur lacked vigour." That was 
the construction which Mademoiselle put upon his 
refusal to hang her enemies, and it was well for her 
that he did, for the hour of the accounting was at 
hand. The 13th October she was intoxicated for 
the last time with the sound of clanking arms and 
the glitter of uniforms. M. le Prince with all his 
army visited her to say "farewell." The Prince 
was to lead his army to the East ; no one knew to 
what fortune. She wrote mournfully: 

It was so beautiful to see the great alley of the Tuileries full 



430 The Youth of 

of people all finely dressed ! M. le Prince wore a very hand- 
some habit of the colour of iron, of gold, of silver, and of black 
over grey, and a blue scarf, which he wore as the Germans 
wear theirs, — under a close-coat, which was not buttoned. I 
felt great regret to see them go, and I avow that I wept when 
I bade them adieu ... it was so lonely ... it was 
so strange . . . not to see them any more ... it hurt 
me so! And all the rumours gave us reason for thinking that 
the King was coming and that we all should be turned out. 

The princes left Paris on Sunday. The follow- 
ing Saturday, in the morning, when Mademoiselle 
was in the hands of her hair-dresser, she received a 
letter from the King notifying her that, as he should 
arrive in Paris to remain permanently, and as he 
had no palace but the Tuileries in which to lodge 
his brother, he should require her to vacate the 
Tuileries before noon on the day following. Made- 
moiselle was literally turned out of the house, and 
on notice so short that anything like orderly retreat 
was impossible. Borne down by the weight of 
her chagrin, she sought shelter where best she 
could. We are told that she " hid her face at the 
house of one of her friends," and it is probable that 
to say that she hid her face but feebly expresses the 
bitterness of the grief with which she turned from 
the only home that she had ever known, in which 
she had lived with her princely retinue, and which 
she had thought to leave only to enter the King's 
palace as Queen of France. She was brave ; she 
talked proudly of her power to overthrow royalty, 
and to carry revolution to the gates of the Palais 
Royal, and until the people saw their young King 



La Grande Mademoiselle 431 

her boasts were not vain ; but her better nature tri- 
umphed, and in the end her wrath was drowned 
in tears. The day after she received notice to 
vacate the palace she was informed that her father 
had been exiled. She went to the Luxembourg to 
condole with him. On the way she saw the King. 
She passed him unseen by him. He had grown 
tall ; he saluted the people gracefully and with the 
air of a king ; he was a bright, handsome boy. The 
people applauded him with frenzy. 

Mademoiselle found her father bristlinof with 
fury ; his staring eyes transfixed her. At sight of 
her he cried angrily that he had no account to ren- 
der to her ; then, to quote Mademoiselle's words, 
" Each told the other his truths." Monsieur re- 
minded her that she had " put herself forward with 
unseemly boldness," and that she had compromised 
the name of d'Orleans by her anxiety to " play the 
heroine." She answered as she thought it just and 
in accordance with the rights of her quality to an- 
swer. She demonstrated to her father that there 
were " characters " upon earth who refused to give 
written orders because they feared to be confronted 
by their signatures when personal safety required 
a denial of the truth. She explained the principle 
of physical timidity and incidentally rehearsed all 
the grievances of her life. Gaston answered her. 
The quarrel ended, Mademoiselle piteously begged 
her father to let her live under his protection. She 
recorded his answer word for word, with all the in- 
cidents of the interview : 



432 The Youth of 

He answered me : " I have no vacant lodging." I said that 
there was no one in that house who was not indebted to me, 
and that I thought that no one had a better right to live there 
than I had. He answered me tartly: ' All who live under my 
roof are necessary to me, and they will not be dislodged." I 
said to him: "As your Royal Highness will not let me live 
with you, I shall go to the Hotel Conde, which is vacant; no 
one is living there at present." He answered: "That I will 
not permit! " I asked: " Where, then, do you wish me to go, 
sir?" He answered: "Where you please!" and he turned 
away. 

The day after that interview, at a word from the 
King, all the Frondeurs left Paris. The highways 
were crowded with great lords in penance and with 
heroines " retired." Poor broken idols ! the people 
of Paris were still chanting their glory ! Monsieur 
departed, bag and baggage, at break of day, 

Avec une extreme vitesse. 

Mademoiselle son ainee 
Disparut la meme journ^e.* 

The daughter of the victim of degeneracy had 
developed her father's weakness. Although Made- 
moiselle was in safety, she trembled. She who had 
challenged death in the last combat of the Fronde, 
laughing merrily as she trained the guns on the 
King of France, thrilled with terror when letter 
followed letter warning her to leave Paris, and 
giving her the names of people destined for the 
Bastille. All the letters, were anonymous, and all 
were in different and unknown hands. 

' La muse historique, de Loret. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 433 

She did not wait to ask who wrote the letters ; 
she did not listen to her faithful Prefontaine, who 
assured her that there was no danger and begged 
her to be calm. 

La Grande Mademoiselle, appalled, beside her- 
self, unmindful of her glory and her dignity, crying 
out wild orders to the people who blocked her way, 
fled from Paris in a hired coach driven by a com- 
mon coachman. She did not breathe freely until 
the scene of her triumphs lay far behind her, and 
even then, the appearance of a cavalier, however 
peaceable, caused her new terror ; she prayed, she 
trembled ; a more piteous retreat was never made ! 

But the adventures of the route distracted her 
thoughts. She was masked, travelling as " Mme. 
Dupre," a woman of an inferior order. She dined 
with her fellow-travellers in public rooms, talked 
freely with common people, and faced life on an 
equality with the canaille. For a royal personage 
such experience had savour. One day in the kitchen 
of an inn a monk talked to her long and earnestly 
of the events of the day and of Mademoiselle, 
the niece of Louis XIII., and her high feats. 
"Yes!" said the priest, "she is a brave girl; a 
brave girl indeed ! She is a girl who could carry a 
spear as easily as she could wear a mask ! " 

Mademoiselle's journey ended at the chateau of a 
friend, who welcomed her and concealed her with 
romantic satisfaction ; being as sentimental as the 
shepherdesses of Astr^e, it pleased the chatelaine 
to fancy that her guest was in peril of death and 
28 



434 The Youth of 

that a price was set upon her head. She sur- 
rounded Mademoiselle with impenetrable mystery. 
A few tried friends fetched and carried the heroine's 
correspondence with Conde. Conde implored her 
to join the legion on the frontier ; he wrote to her : 
" I offer you my places and my army. M. de Lor- 
raine offers you his quarters and his army, and 
Fuensaldagne^ offers you the same." 

Mademoiselle was wise enough to refuse their 
offers ; but she was homeless ; she knew that she 
must make some decisive move ; she could not 
remain in hiding, like the princess of a romance. 
Monsieur was at Blois, but he was fully determined 
that she should not live with him. 

When Prefontaine be8:2:ed him not to refuse 
his daughter a father's protection, he answered 
furiously : " I will not receive her ! If she comes 
here I will drive her back ! " 

Mademoiselle determined to face her destiny. 
She was alone ; they who loved her had no right 
to protect her. She had a chateau at Saint Far- 
geau, and she looked upon it as a refuge. 

Again the heroine took the road, and she had 
hardly set foot upon the highway when the King's 
messenger halted her and delivered a letter from 
his royal master. 

Louis XIV. guaranteed her "all surety and free- 
dom in any place in which she might elect to live." 
Mademoiselle, who had trembled with fear when 
the King's messenger appeared, read her letter 

' Governor of the Spanish Low Countries. 



La Grande Mademoiselle 435 

with vexation ; she had revelled in the thousfht 
that the Court was languishing in ignorance of her 
whereabouts. 

She had gone fast and far and accomplished 
twenty leagues without a halt, when such a fit of 
terror seized her that she hid her head. Had she 
been in Paris, the courtiers would have called her 
seizure "one of the attacks of Monsieur." It was 
an ungovernable panic ; despite the King's war- 
rant she thought that the royal army was at her 
heels, and that the walls of a dungeon confronted 
her. Her attendants could not calm her. The 
heroine was dead and a despairing, half-distracted 
woman entered the Chateau of Saint Fargeau. 
She said of her arrival : 

" The bridge was broken and the coach could not 
cross it, so I was forced to go on foot. It was two 
o'clock in the mornino-. I entered an old house — 
my home — without doors or windows ; and in the 
court the weeds were knee-high. . . . Fear, 
horror, and grief seized me, and I wept." 

Let her weep. It was no more than she de- 
served to do as penalty for all the evil that she 
had brought about by the Fronde. Four years of 
a flagitious war, begun as the effort of conscien- 
tious patriots, under pressure of the general inter- 
est, then turned to a perambulating exhibition of 
selfish vanities and a hunt for ecus which wrecked 
the peace and the prosperity of France ! 

In one single diocese (Laon) more than twenty 
cures were forced to desert their villages because 



436 The Youth of La Grande Mademoiselle 

they had neither parishioners nor means of living. 
Throughout the kingdom men had been made ser- 
vile by physical and moral suffering and by the 
need of rest ; borne down by the imperious de- 
mands of worn-out nature, they loathed action. 
The heroes of Corneille (of the ideal " super- 
human " type of the heroes of Nietzsche) had 
had their day and the hour of the natural man — 
human, not superhuman — had come. 

Five years later, when Mademoiselle returned 
to Paris, she found a new world, with manners in 
sharp contrast with her own. It was her fate to 
yield to the influence of the new ideal, when, for- 
getting that a certain degree of quality " lifts the 
soul above tenderness," she yielded up her soul to 
Lauzun in romantic love. Some day, not far dis- 
tant, we shall meet her in her new sphere. 



INDEX 



Absinthe and Folly, 339, 340 

Absolute monarchy, the, 229, 230 

Absolution, 277 

Academie 1' Franfaise [see Conrart 
and Corneille) 

"Academy," the, 38, 39, 41 

Adamas (the druid), 104 

Administration, 24S 

Adolphus, Gustavus, 33, 34 

Adonis, 129 

^stheticism, 107 

Alaric, 141 

Alcidon, 172 

Alen^on, d', 6 

Alidor, 171 

Alizon, 332 

Alphise, 137 

Amazons, 31, 408 

Amelotte, Pere, 278 

Aminta, Tasso's, 168 

Ancestors, 4 

Andilly, d', Arnauld, 31, 35, 37 

Andrieux, d', the Chevalier, 117 

Angelico, Fra, 205 

Angennes, d', Julie (Mme. Mon- 
tausier), 42 

Angouleme, d', Due, 339 

Angoumois, the hermit of, 144 

Anjou, 116 

Anne of Austria, her appearance, 
14 ; Louis XIII. accuses her of 
love for Monsieur, 19 ; her re- 
tort, 20 ; her visits to Renard's 
Garden, her retinue, 25-27 ; her 
disgrace, and her appeal to La 
Rochefoucauld, 35 ; her kindness 
to Mademoiselle, 59 ; her detesta- 
tion of de Richelieu and de Riche- 
lieu's revenge, 83 ; her hopes and 



rehabilitation, 86, 87 ; her lack 
of jealousy, 86 ; her promise to 
Mademoiselle, 89 ; the attentions 
of the Due de Bellegarde, 96, 97 ; 
her patronage of the drama, 183, 
184 ; her second promise to Made- 
moiselle, 196 ; her widowhood, 
235 ; return to Paris, 238 ; ap- 
pointment to the Regency, 239 ; 
her pretensions and promises to 
Mademoiselle, 255 ; quarrel with 
Mademoiselle, 266 ; her anger, 
270 ; her visits to convents (ex- 
tract), 273 ; condemnation of 
Barillon, 333 ; her poverty and 
her indifference to public opinion, 
333 ; the people's demand for 
Broussel and her refusal and 
forced consent, 346 ; her flight, 
349 ; her folly, 353-355 ; return 
to Paris, 356 ; second flight, 357, 
358, 360 ; reception at Saint Ger- 
main, 372 ; return to Paris, in- 
dignant rejection of Jarze, 373- 
376 ; at Libourne, 381-384 ; the 
evil day, 388-390 ; her letters 
from Mazarin, 395-397 ; Lyonne, 
396, 397 ; renewal of her rela- 
tions with Mazarin (overtures to 
Lyonne, see Mazarin's letters), 

396, 397 
Aragon {Doti Sane ho ) — a play — 180, 

181 
Ariosto, 144 
Aristotle, 39 
Arnauld, Mothe, de la (Claude), 

36 
Arquien, d', Marie, 94 
Artagnan, d', 40 
Arthenice ("the Fair"), 123, 127, 

12S, 139, 147, 149. 153- 323 



437 



438 



Index 



Assisi, d' (or Assise d'), Fran9ois 

(" Pere Francois"), 205 (j^?^ Ca- 

tliolic Renaissance) 
Asire'e, 92, gg-ioi, 103-106, 108- 

III, 147, 157, 160, 161, 166, 167, 

294, 364, 366, 433 
Aubignac, d' (the Abbe), 164 
Auchy, d', Vicomtesse, 55, 114 
Auvergne, 229 
Avenel, d', Vicomte, 38 (note), 120, 

368 
Avesnes, 67 
Avranches, 95 {see Huet) 



B 



Bagnolet, 193 

Baladins, 28 

Balagny, 117, 118 

Baltic Sea, the, 33 

Balzac, 124, 142, 144, 165 

Baradas, young, 207 

Barillon, 332, 333, 336, 351 

Barine, Arvede, 134 

Baro, Sieur, 93, 157 

Barricades, 340-342 

Barthelemy, E., 137, 144, 325 

Basserie, I. P., Mile., 201 

Bassompierre, 38, 232 

Bastille, the, 232, 256,421 

Battle, the last, 415-421 

Bazin, 200 

Bearnais, the. III. (see Henry IV.) 

Beaufort, de. Due, 248, 328, 339, 

366, 367, 405, 424 
Beaupre, de, 118 
Belesis, 24, 25 

Belle-au-Bois-dormant, 57, 58 
Bellegarde, de. Due, 96, 97, 107, 128 
Belles Lettres, 125, 126 
Berthod Pere {see Mlmoires') 
Berulle, de, Pierre, 275, 280, 289, 

290, 292, 295 
Beziers, 71, 72 
Bibliotheque Nationale, 83 
Bird House, 23 
Blasphemy and Vice, 282 
Blois, 7, 74, 76, 156, 188, 191, 434 
Blood, Princes of the, 221, 248, 321 
Blue Room, tlie, 121, 122, 126, 127, 

130, 133- 137, 142, 144, 145. 323 
Boileau, 126 
Bois-de-Boulogne, 25 
Bois-le-Vicomte, 335 



Books and writings, 38 

Book of Edificatioti, 115 

Bordeaux, " the heroine of," wife of 
Conde, 379 ; siege of, 380 ; Mon- 
sieur arrives as mediator, 382 

Bordeaux, the Archbishop of, 116 

Bossuet, 279, 2S1, 285, 295, 305 

Bossut, de, Mme., 197, 305 

Bouillon, de, army of, 192 ; Gode- 
froy de Bouillon, 155; Mme., 365 

Bourbon, de, Marie (Wife and Ma- 
dame (i) of Gaston), Duchesse d' 
Orleans, 3, 12, 60, 187 {see Marie, 
Duchesse de Montpensier, cousin 
of Madame (i), and object of the 
first of the Bourbonic aspirations 
of de Soissons) ; {see de Soissons 
and Campion, 187) 

Bourbon, de. Mile. (Mme. de 
Longueville), 143, 149-15 1 

Bourbon, de. House of, 312 ; Hotel 
de, 312 

Bourdaloue, 279 

Bourdoise, 278, 289 

Bourg la Reine, 408 

Bourgeois, the wives of the, 18 ; 
sons of, 37 ; meet to appoint a 
government, 422; (mention of the 
bourgeois), 333, 334, 336, 355, 
375, 416, 421, 422-424, 426 

Bourgeoisie, 281, 282, 340, 371, 374, 
375, 412 

Bourges, 39 

Bourgogne, Hotel de {see Theatres) 

Bourse, the, 338 

Bouvard (the leech), 15 

Bregis, de, Comte, 114 

Bregy, de, Mme., 50 

Brienne, de, Mme., 316; (mention 
of de Brienne, Jr.), 316 

Brissac, Hotel de, 77 

" Broussel, Monsieur," Provost of 
Merchants, 336, 340, 346, 347, 

349, 351, 425 
Briihl, 395 

Brunetiere, F., 93, 95, 181, 289 
Brussels, 35, 200 
Buckingham, 216 
Burgundy, 116 
Bussy-Rabutin, 133, 317 



Cabals, the, 85, 324 



Index 



439 



Campion, 187, 188, 192 

Canaille, the, visit their goddess, 

268 ; arm with clubs, 331, 334, 

346, 347, 359. 397, 408, 410, 411, 

416, 433 
Cardinal-Infant, the, 196, 199, 200 
Carignan, de, Mme., 138 
Carlos, 180, iSi 
Carmelite, Mademoiselle's desire to 

be a, 299 
Carrousel, the, 22 
Cas de Consciettce {les), 39 
Case, de la. Marquis, 114 
Cassandane, Princess, 79 
Castelnaudary, 71 
Catholic League, 212 
Catholic Renaissance, 283, 299 
Cavalier, French, 102 
Celadon, 94, 99, 100, 104, 169 
Celidee, 171 

Centennial (Racine's), 291 
Chaillot, 24, 25 

Chalais, 5, 8, 73, 190, 266, 301 
Champagne, 192 
Champagne, de, Philip, 205 
Champs-Elysees, 23, 25 
Chancellor, the, 243 
Chantel, de. Mile., 54 
Chantelauze, 295 
Chantilly, 81, 82, 155, 364 
Chapelain, 54, 129, 130, 131, 144 
Charente, la, 142 
Charge's, grandes (Court chancellors, 

chevaliers d' honneur , etc.), 27 
Charity (Order of the Sisters of), 294 
Charles I., King of England, 193 
Charles II., 397 
Charles V., 13 
Charles VIII., 306 
Charonne, 418 

Chartres, 7; Bishop of, 214, 215 
Chateaumorand, de, Diane, 94 
Chatellerault, 21 
Chatillon-sur-Seine, 277 
Chatillon, de, Mme. la Duchesse, 

305, 379, 413 
Chaussee d'Antin (rue de la), 25 
Chenonceaux, 109 
Chdrubin (Cherubino), 261 
Chevaliers of the Order, 62, 166 
Chevreuse, de, Mme. la Duchesse, 

her hotel, 22, 181, 300-304, 328, 

379- 413 
Chief of Council {see Mazarin) 



Chief General of the Armies of 

France (see Enghien, d', Louis, 

due) 
Chimene, 174-176 
Choisy, 7-9 
Choisy, de, Mme., 393 
Chronicles (contemporary), 7, 305, 

374 
Church, the, 63, 158, 197-199, 275- 

277, 286, 288, 289, 291, 292, 296, 

369 

Cid, the {see Corneille) 

Cinna, 177, 181; effect upon Conde, 
.377 

Cinq-Mars, Henry, Marquis d'Effiat, 
200-202, 206-210, 218, 220, 221, 
223-226; his mother, 201 

" Circle, the" {see Salon Rambouil- 
let) 

Claque, the, 215 

Claude, cousin and bride of the 
Cardinal-Bishop, 197 

Clarinte, 53 

Cleonville, de, Sieur, 70 

Clitandre, 170, 171 

Clcrinde, 155 

Clovis, Desmarets's dramatic poem, 
213 

Cluny, Bernard of, 293 

Cluny, Musee, 123 

Colbert, 78, 133 

" Collation of Benefices," 295 

Colletet, the seeker for domestic 
comfort, 141 

Cologne, 221 

Combalet, de. Mile. (Mme. d'Aguil- 
lon), 64 

Comedy, the dramatic play, and 
theatre, 44, 158 

Communardes, the, 332 

Compiegne, 67 

Concorde, Place de la, 23, 413 

Concorde, Pont de la, 23 

Conde, the great, 34, 39, 57, 126, 
297, 306-309, 317, 335, 358, 363, 
373, 375-379, 387, 388, 390-393, 
398, 406-409, 412-416, 418-425, 
427-429, 434 

Conde (Pere), 115, 335 

Conde, de, Mme. la Princesse 
(mother of the great), 149, 150 

Conde, de, Mme. la Princesse (wife 
of the great), the heroine of Bor- 
deaux, 309, 310, 379, 393, 398 



440 



Index 



Conde, Hotel de, 31 1, 364, 432 
Conde, de, House of, 311, 324, 325 
Conference Library {see Vicomtesse 

d'Auchy), 56 
Conference, quai de la, 390 (Maza- 

rin's departure) 
Conrart, Valentin, 136-13S, 144, 

423 ; Madame, wife of, 138 
Conseil de Conscience^ 295, 297 
Contes de Perrault, les, 57, 58 
Conti, de, Prince (his treatise), 60, 

61 
Corbie, the siege of, 190 
Cordons Bleus, 63 (Order of the 

Saint Esprit) 
Coriolanus, 344 
Corisande, the fair, 277 
Corneille, Preface, iv., v.; i, 56, 

105, 106, 135, 139, 141, 145, 153, 

161, 167, 168, 170-184, 194, 195, 

213, 215, 344, 436 
Corporal, " the Little," 401 
Corps, army (escorting the royal 

mourners), 235 
Cossack, natural investiture of, 113 ; 

gestures of, 122 ; oaths of, 303 
Costar, Pierre, 124, 167 
Coulanges, de (the Abbe), 54, 55 
Council, the, 231, 240, 243 ; Chief 

of, 239, 244 
Councils of Finance, 37 
Cours la Reine, 24, 25, 337, 358, 

359. 413 
Court of Catherine de Medicis 

(Mile, de Senterre), 97 
Court of France, the requirements 

of, 27 ; spirit of, 126 
Court of Germany, the, 263 
Court of le Grand Enric, 94 
Court of Henry IV., 97 
Court of Miracles, the, 23 
Court of the Valois, the, 97 
Court of Vienna, the, 263 
Courtenvaut, 155 

" Croquemitaine," 60, 90, 213, 2x6 
Cross, the true, 281 
Crusaders, the, 4, 153 
Cures, Cures, abbeys, and abbots 

{see Catholic Renaissance) 
Cyrus le Grand, 42, 47 



D 



Damophile, 47-49, 55 



Dauphin, 40, 89, 90, 159 
Dauphine (place), 165 
Debats {yournal des)^ 65 
Declaration against Monsieur, 229 
Declaration for the appointment of 

an Executive Council, and for a 

nominal Regent, 233 
Dedalus, 23, 107 
Des Jardins, de. Mile., 56 
Desmarets, 213 
Dialogues des Moris, 320 
Diana, 150 

Dictionnaire des Prdcieuses, 79, 113 
Dijon, 337 
Diodee. Mile., 56 
Divers pieces, etc., 66, 68, 70, 71 
Doll's House (Ibsen's), 174 
Dombes, 21 

Dome, le (pavilion de 1' Horlage), 22 
Don Lope, iSi 
Don Sane ho d'Aragon, 180 
Drama, the, 177 
Dubuisson-Aubenay, 362, 378 
Dulaure, 108 
Du Perron, 286 
Dupes, Journ^e des, 60 
Dupre, Mme., 433 
Durandarte, 153 



Echo, the, 23 

Edification (book of), I15 

Education, Fenelon on, 30, 31 

EfiSat, d', Henry {see Cinq-Mars) 

Elboeuf, d', due, 62 

Elect, the, 196 

Elector Palatine, Frederick V., 305 

Element, religious, the {see Catholic 
Renaissance) 

Eloquence, 71 

Emerson, iii.. Preface 

Emperor (Ferdinand III.), 263, 264, 
267, 272 ; wife of, 262, 264 

Empire, 212, 264, 273 ; Second Em- 
pire, 216 

Enghien, d' (Louis), due, 247, 309, 
312 

England, 256 

England, King of, Charles I., 193 

England, King of (Prince of Wales), 

259 
England, Queen Henriette of, 193 ; 
throne of, 257 ; Elizabeth of, 304 



Index 



441 



Epernay, 134 ' 

Epernon, d', due, 116 

Episcopate, the, 197, 205, 276, 277 

Epistles of St. Paul {Homilies on 
the), 56 

Erinne, 50 

Erudition, 71 

Esprit, Jacques, 127 

lEtampes, 407, 408 

Europe, 131, 194, 211, 229 (con- 
temporary Europe, 185) 

Exile \see Saint Fargeau), 434, 435 



Farce, the, 168 

Father Joseph, 65 

Favourite (Monsieur's), Abbe de la 

Riviere, 262, 263, 265-267 
Favourites of Louis XIII., young 

Baradas and Cinq-Mars {see Cinq- 
Mars) 
Feminist leaders {see de Chevreuse, 

de Chatillon, de Gonzague, and 

de Longueville) 
Fe77i7nes Savantes, les, 45 
Fenelon, 30 ; sketch of Mazarin, 

320, 321 
Ferdinand III. {see Cardinal-Infant, 

arid 273) 
Feuillade, de la, 248 
Fiesque, de (belle Comtesse), 401 
Fiesque, de, Mme., 249 
Fiesque, de, M. le Comte, 193 
Finance (Councils of), 37 
Flanders, 196, 200, 251 
Fleche, la, 155 

Fontainebleau, 13, 61, 62, 314, 3S4 
Fontenelle, 215 
Force, de la, Piganiol, 23 
Foreign Affairs, Department of, 5 
Forez, 95 
Eortunio, 261 
Foundlings' Hospital, 294 
France, progress under Richelieu, 

212 
France, w^oods and gardens of, 109 
Fra Angelico, 205 
French clergy, the, 286, 293 
Fronde, the crime of the architects 

of the, 335 
Fronde, the last battle of the, 414- 

421 



Frondeurs, their opportunity as mas- 
ters of Paris, 391 
Frontenac, de, 401, 403 
Fuensaldagne, 434 



Galatee, Queen Marguerite, 94, 108, 

366 
Galilee, Lake of, 290 
Gamboust, 23, 120 
Garden, Renard's, 23-25, 414, 428 
Garenne, La, 23 
Gassan, Jean, 28 
Gassion, de, Jean, 31-34 
Gauls, the, 279 

Gazette, la (de France), 261, 313 
Gazette, la (de Loret), 1 14 
Gazette, la (de Renaudot), 64, 65, 

75, 78 

Gendarmerie and light cavalry (Gas- 
ton's), 229 

German students, 140 

Germany, 59, 94, 212, 264, 272, 390 

Gesvres, des, due, 50 

Giotto, 205 

Godeau, Antoine, 140 

" Gold Room," 166 

Gondis, les, 107 

Gonesse, 251 

Gonzague, de, Anne, "wife of Henry 
de Guise," Archbishop of Rheims, 
281, 304, 305, 328, 379, 387, 393, 

395 
Gordes, 210 

Gournay, " the worthy," 55 
Government, the, 61, 64, 211, 332, 

351, 368, 369 
Governor of Orleans, the, 401 
Gramont, de, Marechal, 117 
Grand Cyrus, Le, 42, 47 
Greece, 150; language, 35, 37, 55, 

79 

H 

Halles, the, 340, 366, 374 

Hardy, Alexander, 163 

Haro, del, Don Louis, 300 

Harpagon, de, 367 

Hauranne, de, Jean Duvergier {see 

St. Cyran), 290 
Hautefort, de (Madame de or Mile. 

de), 35, 85-88, 90, 114 
Havre, the prison of, 390 



442 



Index 



Hebert, 411 

Helmet of Minerva, 134 

Henry III., 96 

Henry IV., 13, 91, 94, loi, 222, 
406 

Henry IV., the Court of, 97 

Hermes Trismegistus, 56 

Hermogene, 24 

Heroinate, the, 399, 430 

Herouard, 15, 155 

Hesiod, 49 

Hippocrates, 39 

Hocquincourt, d', 118 

Hohenzollern, 16 

Holy Orders, 196, 197 

Holy See, 242 

Homilies on St. PauVs Epistles, 
36 

Hopital, r, de Marechal (threatened 
by Mademoiselle), 113 ; in Coun- 
cil, 416 

Horace (Camille), 176-179 

H6tel-de-Ville, 18, 143, 363-365, 
370. 374 ; Orleans, 404, 416, 417, 
422, 423 ; fire (Conde's revenge), 

424, 425 
Houri, the, 250 
House of Commons, 351 
Houssaye (the Abbe), 275, 278 
Huet (the ecclesiastical head of 

Avranches), 95, 128 
Hnguenot, a, 137 
IIu7?ianities, the, 195 
Hungary, 194 
Huxelles, d'. Marquise, 362 



Ibsen's Doll's House, 174 
Idea, the innate, 55 ; the monarchi- 
cal), 185 
Idealogues, 333 
rile, Saint Louis, 337 
Importants, the, 248 
Indifference, Infidelity, and Licence, 

295 
Infant-Cardinal, 196, 199, 200 
IphigMie {^2iC\ne's), 185 
Installation, Mademoiselle's first, 25 
Institute of France, 144 
Intrigue, Spanish (Duchesse de Chev- 

reuse and Val-de-Grace), 302 
Italy, gardens of, 109 



Jacob, 75 

Jansenism, 106, 181 

Jansenists, 291 

Jarze, 375, 376 

Jesuit Brothers, 155 

Jeunesse dorde (la), 279 

Jewels, silver dishes, debts, etc., 258 

Joly, Guy, ^395 

Joseph, Pere ("Father Joseph"), 

65 
Joubert, 291 
yournal des DSats, 65 
yournde des Dttpes, 60 
Judas, II 

Julleville, de. Petit, 93, 170, 171 
Jurisconsults (Richelieu's), 250 
Justice, Palais, de (invaded by the 

people), 330 

K 

Kerviler, Mme., 144 
Kerviler, Rene, 137 



La Barre, 149, 152 

" La Belle Paulet," 143, 144, 149 

La Bruyere, 139, 146 

La Calprenede, i, 166 

Lafayette, de. Mile., 88, 132, 144 

La Fleche, 155 

Lanson, 165 

Laon, diocese of, 435 

La Porte, 316 

La Pucelle, 129, 130 

" La Pucelle Priande," 142, 150 

La Rochefoucauld, 328, 345, 356, 

365, 376, 417, 426 
Latin (required by the priest), 277 
Lauzun, 2, 436 
La Valette, de, Cardinal, 149, 150, 

152 
La Villette, 151 

League, the, 98 ; the banners of, 342 
Le Maitre, Antoine, 37 
Lemaitre, Jules, 106, 170, 174, 176, 

291 
Lenet, 40, 308, 352, 384 
Lenotre, 109 
Lens, battle of, 335, 336 
Leopold, Archduke, 264 



Index 



443 



Le petit Catilina (" Little Catiline"), 

344 
Les cas de Conscience, 39 
Les Femmes Savantes, 45 
" Le TelHer," 395 
Letters, men of, 126, 127 {see Hotel 

de Rambouillet) 
Libourne, 381, 382 
Library (National), 244 
Library of the Conference (founded 

by the Vicomtesse d'Auchy), 56 
Lignon, Academy of, 94 
Lignon ( river), 100 
Lignon, shepherds of, 95 
Ligurian peninsula and sea, 212 
Limoges, de, Mme., 173 
Lisieux, de. Bishop, 148, 149 
Litterateur, the, 131 
Little Corporal, the, 401 
Little Monsieur, 304, 307, 362 
Livre d'Or, the, 113 
Loire (river), 402 ; men of the river, 

403 
Longueville, de, M. and Mme., 129, 

300, 305, 309, 311, 356, 358, 365, 

366, 372, 379, 380, 392, 413 
Longueville, de, M. and Mile., of 

Bagnolet, — family of de Soissons, 

193 

Lope, Don, 181 

Lorraine, de, Charles, 434 

Lorraine, de, Henry II. (Due de 
Guise), 197 

Lorraine, de. Marguerite (the Prin- 
cesse Gaston), 64, 188 

Lorraine, Nicholas Fran5ois, T97, 
198 

Loudun, 155 

Louis XIII., his palace, 13, 14; 
his sickly youth, 15 ; his kennels, 
23 ; his quarrels, 66 ; his personal 
literature, 66, 242 ; his exhibition 
of his scars, 233 ; his care for 
France, 233 ; his death, 235 

Louis XIV., 304, 306, 317, 331, 
333, 348, 349, 351-354 ; the 
King's scullions, 354 ; a hungry 
cherub, 355 ; looks down from 
Charonne upon the last battle of 
the Fronde, 418 ; returns to 
Paris, 431 ; his message to La 
Grande Mademoiselle, 434 

Love, Christian, 286, 28S, 291 ; of 
man for woman {see Astre'e) 



Luxembourg, the (home of Gaston 
d'Orleans), visited by the mo- 
bility, 410 

Lycoris, 137 

Lyonne {see Letters of Jules Maza- 
rin to Anne of Austria) 

Lyons, Archbishop of, 149 ; city 
and people of, 223, 226, 228 

Lysandre, 171 



M 



Madame (i), wife of Monsieur (Gas- 
ton d'Orleans), 12, 14, 20 

Madame (2), wife of Monsieur (Gas- 
ton d'Orleans) (Marguerite de 
Lorraine), 62, 250-254 

Madame (mother of Comte de Sois- 
sons), 193 

Madrid, 303 

Maillard, 411 

Maille-Breze, de. Mile., 57 

Maintenon, de, Mme., 30 

Mairet, 165 

Malines, Archbishop of, 197 

Malherbe, 114, 127-129 

" Mandragora, old " (cave of), 108 

Marais, the (theatre of), 162 ; Les 
Messieurs du, 209 

Marat, 411 

Marechal de I'Hopital, the, 416 

Marfee, 193 

Marguerite de Lorraine, Madame 
(2) (wife of Gaston), 62 ; her 
crime, 250 ; her complaints, 253 ; 
her advent and effect upon the 
spiritual atmosphere, 253 

Marillac, de, Marechal, 118 

" Marin " (Marini), 129 

Marius, 344 

Marivaux, 95 

MaroUes (Abbe de Villeloin), 201 

Marsan, pavilion de, 22 

Marseillaise, La, 182 

Marshals of France, 235 

Mascarelle, 24 

Massacre of Saint Bartholomew, 

lOI 

Massarini, Jules, diary of, 395-397 
Matton, Ursule, 28 
Mauconseil (rue), 162 
Mauny, de, Marechal, 116 
Mazarin (Massarini), first known in 
Paris as Papal Nuncio, called by 



444 



Index 



Mazarin (Massarini) {Confd) 

Louis XIII. to assume the duties 
of de Richelieu, 242 ; his invisi- 
bility, 242, 243 ; his appointment 
as Chief of Council, 243 ; his 
modesty, 247; his "methods," 
312 ; his avidity, 317 ; his foreign 
policy, 318 ; Fenelon's sketch of 
his character, 320 ; his promise to 
Mademoiselle, 336 ; carries the 
King from Paris (in flight), 348 ; 
the popular idea of Mazarin, 
354 ; his services in France men- 
tioned as of incalculable value, 
354 ; his "forty little fishes," 355 ; 
names given by the people, 355 ; 
his return to Paris, 355, 356 ; his 
second flight and his provisions 
for his stay at Saint Germain, 
357 ; Parliament threatens expul- 
sion, 363 ; his would-be rival, 
Jarze, 375 ; Mazarin as a weaver, 
378 ; buffeted by the people of 
Bordeaux, 384 ; repulsed by Gas- 
ton, 385 ; his feelings in regard to 
de Retz, 385 ; his inclination to- 
ward intrigue, 386 ; his foolhardy 
victory at Rethel, 3S7 ; Mazarin 
sues for Mademoiselle's aid, 388; 
Farewell! 390 ; love-letters, 395- 
397 ; enters France and again re- 
duces royalty, 397 ; with the King 
views the last battle of the 
Fronde, voluntarily returns to 
exile, 426 

Mazarinades, the, 397 

Medee, 170, 171 

Medicis, de, Catherine, 96, 97 

Medicis, de, Marie, defence of Rich- 
elieu, 17 ; her music, 17 ; her 
death, 221 

Menage, 131-133 

Merchants, Provost of, 416 

Merctire Fi-angaise, the, 64 

Metz, Mazarin, Archbishop of, 298 

Meudon, 251 

Michelet, 17, 82 

Middle Ages, vestiges of the, 28 

Minerva, the Helmet of, 134 

Miracles, the Court of, 23 

Miracles (tools requisite for the 
working of), 172 

Moderation, 71 

Mole, Mathieu, 229, 346 



Moliere, 24, (Mascarelles) 45, 132 

Monarchy, absolute, 187, 229, 230 

Mondory, 165 

Money, Spanish, 62 

Monsieur (" d'Orleans "), his con- 
stancy and patience, 189, 253; 
receives the sympathy and the 
encouragement of the people, 410 

Montaigne, 55, 112 

Montausier, de, M., 42; "Little 
Montausier," 322, 323 

Montbazon, de, Mme., 192,305, 311, 

379 
Montegut, Eniile, 93, 94, 95, 98 
Montglat, 229, 232, 317 
Montmartre, rue, 162 
Montmorency, de. Constable, 38; 

Duke, 62, 71; Marshal (son of 

the Constable), 41 
Montpensier, duchy of, 7, 21; estates 

of, 257 
Montpensier, de, Mile. (Marie de 

Bourbon), 5, 187; Montrouge, 

258 
Montsoreau, de, Comte, 116 
Morillot, Paul, 93, 99 
Motte, de la, Marechal, 367 
Motteville, de, Mme., 10, 28, 82, 96, 

206, 218, 220, 238, 240, 252, 254, 

258, 259, 267 (269 the Worthy 

Motteville on Truth), 297, 307, 

318, 320, 324, 328, 332-334, 370, 

388, 406 
Mousaux, the captaincy of, 51 
Muntz, Eugene, 107 
Musee Cluny, 123 



N 



Nancy, 134, 250 

Nanterre, 238 

Nantes, 155 

Napoleon,' Z« Vie de Char, 216 

Narbonne, 2ig 

National Soul, the, 248 

Nation's statesmen, the, 37 

Navarre, 32 

Nemours, de, due, 405 

Nerval, de, Gerard, 19 

Nesle, Tour de, 342 

Neuilly, bridge of, 237 

Nicanor, 49 

Nietzsche, 177-179, 436 

Notre Dame, 310, 317, 336, 338, 346 



Index 



445 



o 



" Obstacle, the," 229 

Office (profession of the Episcopate), 
275; personal service of prayer 
and meditation required of the 
priest of the Latin Church, 277 

Old Madame de Guise, 232 

Old Mandragora (cave of), 108 

Opposition, the, 216, 230, 322-324, 
333. 334, 388 

Orasie, 97 

Oratoire, 1', 289, 292, 295, 297 

Oratorians, the, 290-292, 294, 295, 
298 

" Order, the," 166 

Orleans, 398, 399, 401, 402, 404- 
407, 409, 411, 412, 427 

Orleans, d', Gaston, due, 189 

Orleans, d', Madam (i) (Marie de 
Bourbon) 5, 12-20 

Orleans, d', Madame (2) (see Mar- 
guerite de Lorraine) 

Ormesson, d', Andre, 351 

Ormesson, d', Olivier, 258, 268, 270, 
281, 306, 312-314, 317, 350, 351, 
355, 372 

Ornano d', Marechal, 7, 8 

Orpheus, 261 

Ortolans {see Charles, Prince of 
Wales) 

Ossonne, d', due, 165, 243 



Padadin, 34 

Palais, Cardinal, 204, 205, 213-215 

Palais de Justice, 330 

Palais Royal, 156, 281, 313, 314, 
319, 336, 346, 34S, 390, 391. 396, 
430, 432 

Pallas and Venus, 327 

Pan (the god), 108 

Papal Nuncio, 242, 243 

Paradise, 132, 224 

Paris, Archbishop of, 343 

Paris, 7, 12 ; streets of, 19, 24, 37, 
50, 51, 60 ; people of, 61, 70, 74, 
77, 86, 91, 127, 129, 140, 147, 149, 
151, 156, 182; dregs of, 163, 165, 
168, 188, 191, 203, 207, 208, 213, 
225-228, 232, 234 

Parliament, establishment of the 
Regent, 243, 330, 331, 334; de- 
mands for the release of Broussel, 



346 ; overtures made to the Queen, 
349 ; stormy sessions, 349 ; the 
Magistrates and their sincerity 
and worth, 370 ; debris of Parlia- 
ment, 425 ; patriots and would-be 
humanitarians, 426 (general men- 
tion from pages 91 to 426) 

Parma, Duke of, 78, 157 

Pastoral, 168 

Pau, 32 

Paul de Vincent, 275, 279, 289, 290, 
292-297 

Paulet ("La Belle"), 143, 144, 149 

Pauline, v.. Preface 

Pavilion de Flore, 22 

Pavilion de THorloge, 22 

Pavilion de I'Marsan, 22 

Pavilion de Rohan, 120 

Paying theatres, the, 162, 165 

Pellisson, 95 

Perrault, 58 

Petits Champs, rue des, 118 

Phedre, v., Preface 

Philamente, 45 

Philippe Augustus, the old fortress 
of, 13 

Pibrac, de, Mme. ("the Aged"), 

173 

Pity, 71 

Place de la Concorde, 23 

Place Dauphine, 165 

Place Royale, play, 104, 105, 171 ; 
the place Royale, 249, 252 

Pleirante, old, 171 

Plutarch, 344, 345 

Poitiers, 397 

Poland, 94 

Polexandre, 377 

Polyetccte, 135, 144, 177 

Ponipe'e, 177 

Pont de I'Arche, 426 

Pont-Neuf, 165, 168, 338 

Pontis, de, Louis, 38, 40, 41 

Pontoise, 89 

Pope, the, reference to him in 
Richelieu's dying charge to Maza- 
rin (" Our Good Master"), 242 

Port-au-Foin, 227 

Port Royal, 3^., 40, 106, 281 

Pouvillon, Les Antibel, 169 

Power, contemporary, 197 

Prayer Book, de Richelieu's Ilotirs, 
204 ; de Richelieu's picture gal- 
lery, 205 



446 



Index 



Pre'cieuses, les, 47, 50, 79, IO9-II3, 
115, 119, 146, 303, 323 

Prefontaine, 393, 433, 434 

Press, the, 64 

Prevost (Abbe, the), 95 

" Priande, Pucelle La," 142, 150 

Prime Minister, 243, 244, 246 

"Prince Charming," 11 

Prince Palatine, 305 

Prince of Wales, the, 259, 262, 264 

Princes, the Order of, 180 

Protestant Alliance, 248 

Protestants, 277 {see Catholic Re- 
naissance) 

Provost, the (of the merchants of 
Paris), 238, 416 

Pucelle, la, 129, 130 

Pulcherie, 183 

"Purgon, M.," 378 

Puylaurens, 75, 217 

Puymorin, 117, 118 

Pyrenees, 109, 303 



R 



Rabbit Warren, 23 
Racine (IV.), 95, 127, 182, 183, 185 
Rambouillet, de, Chateau, 147, 148 
Rambouillet, de, Hotel, 22, 42, 47, 

no, 113, 121, 123, 126-128, 134, 

138-142, 144, 145, 147, 152, 179 
Rambouillet, de, Madame, 114, 119- 

122, 126, 130, 132, 134, 136, 138, 

141-143, 148, 323 
Rambouillet, de, Mile., 140, 148, 149 
Rambouillet, de, nee, Angelique de 

Grignan, 143 
Ranke, Leopold, 229 
Reaction, 429 
Reaux des Tallemant, 42, 56, 114, 

118, 119, 121, 131, 132, 149 
Recueil de divers pieces {see "per- 
sonal literature " under King), 66, 

68, 70, 71 
Reformation, 284 
Regency, 117, 240, 241, 249, 250, 

307, 320, 331, 339, 350, 422 
Regent, 14, 87, 233-238, 240, 243, 

256, 263, 295, 296, 304, 317, 330, 

332, 341, 366, 382, 384 
Register, Parish, 252 
Religion, 153 
Religious element {see Catholic 

Renaissance) 



Renard, the garden of, 23-25 
Renaudot {Gazette, the), 64, 65 
Rethel, 387 

Retz de Cardinal (ex-Abbe), 10, 
75, 83. 133, 240, 247, 300, 
426 
Reynier, Gustave, 165 
Rheims, Archbishopric, 197 
Richelieu de, considered necessary 
to France, 16 ; his enemies at 
Court, his relations at Court, 
the portly quadragenarian, etc., 
his lute-playing, 17 ; his jealousy, 
35 ; his persecution of Anne of 
Austria, 35; his struggles with the 
high powers of France, 59; his 
discipline of Monsieur (Mademoi- 
selle's knowledge of it), 60, 61; 
the banquet of the Knights of the 
Saint-Esprit, his present from 
the King, 63 ; his appreciation 
of the power of the so-called 
" Press," 64 ; his editorship, 65 ; 
Monsieur's accusation of (Gaston's 
letters to the King), 68 ; (the 
King's eulogy, etc.), his polemics 
in the Recueil, his self-praise, 
71 ; his victims (Gaston's asso- 
ciates), the death of Puylaurens, 
74 ; acts as godfather, 75 ; his 
riches, genius, cruelty, and am- 
bition, his declaration of love to 
Anne of Austria, his heart, etc., 
Val-de-Grace, 82-84 ! his rebuke 
of Mademoiselle, 90 ; conspiracy 
of Monsieur and de Soissons, 190, 
191 ; introduction of Cinq-Mars 
to the King, 201 ; the Star of 
Richelieu, 202 ; his pomp, his 
bodyguard, 203 ; his palace (hotel 
and theatre), 204, 205 ; his part 
as peacemaker, his work for 
France, 211-213 ; his grand fete, 
Mir ante, 213-216 ; his disgrace 
Le petit Saint-J^mour, etc., 217, 
218 ; his attempt to corrupt Cinq- 
Mars, his insult oifered to Cinq- 
Mars, Cinq-Mars's anger, his 
conspiracy, de Richelieu's re- 
venge, his travelling room, his 
closing days, his death and fun- 
eral, 218-230 ; various references 
to, 231, 232, 238, 242, 243, 247, 
266, 280 



Index 



447 



Richelieu, de (brother of the Cardi- 
nal), Archbishop of Lyons, 149 

Richelieu, rue, 358, 390 

Rigol, Eugene (see works cited) 

Riviere, de la, Abbe, Monsieur's 
favourite, 262, 263, 265-267 

Roche-sur-Yon, 21 

Rocroy, 34, 246 

Rodrigue, 165, 175, 176, 261, 419 

Roger, " Louison," 76, 77, 156 

Rohan, de, Pavilion (Palais de Ro- 
han, Place Roy ale), 209 

Roland, 419 

Rome, 197, 396 

Ronsard, 112 

Rotrou, 213 

Rouen, 337 

Roule (chemin de), 237, 238 

Rousseau, J. J., 95 

Rubens, 221 

Rueil, 73, 74, 90, 203, 209, 210, 313, 
314, 348, 370 ; artificial cascades 
of, 108 

Ryer, de, Pierre, 93 



Sable, de, Marquise, 50 

Saint Amour, "Little," 216, 217 

Saint Antoine, rue, 347, 417 418, 

420, 421 ; faubourg, 416, 419, 423 
Saint Augustine, 53 
Saint Bartholomew, 347 
Saint Bernard, 277 
Sainte-Beuve, 141, 281 
Sainte Chapelle, la, 378 
Saint Cloud, 50, 107 
Saint Denis, Carmelite nuns of, 57 ; 

rue de, 162 ; gate of 347 
Saint Dominick, 205 
Saint Esprit (chevaliers of the Order 

of the), 63, 166 
Saint Evremond, 249 
Saint Fargeau, 21, 434, 435 
Saint Franfois de Sales, 276 
Saint Georges, de, Mme., 29, 77, 

84, 249 
Saint Germain I'Auxerrois, 13 
Saint Germaine, 90, 91, 108, 201, 

202, 206, 232-236, 253, 349 ; fairs 

of, 165 
Saint Gervais, church of, 417 
Saint Honore, rue, 118 ; market of, 

29 ; faubourg, 237 



Saint Julian, abbey of, 155 
Saint Laurent, fair of, 165 
Saint Piguerol, prison of, 333 
Saint Simon, 116, 147, 310, 345 
" Saints' Party," the, 296, 298 
Saint Theresa, 274 
Sales, de, Fran9ois, 98 
Salon, the Blue Room, 118, iig, 

121-123, 125, 127-129, 131, 134, 

136, 141-147, 152 
Sand, George, 95 
Sapho, 42, 47-50 
Sarrazin, 124, 141, 146 
Saujon, 264, 265, 272, 335, 336, 381 
Sauval, 23, 108 

" Savante," a, 46, 47, 49, 53, 56, 79 
Savoy, 33 
Scapin, 24 

Schomberg, de, Marechal, 307 
Scudery, de, Georges, 401 
Scudery, de. Mile., i, 24, 42, 47, 49, 

50-53, 55, 57, 135, 143 

Sedan, 191, 192 

See, Holy, 242 

Segrais, Sieur, 7g, 161 

Seine, the, 22, 23, 337, 338 

Seminaries (ecclesiastical), 277 

Senneterre, de. Mile., 97 

Septembrist, 423 

Sevigne, de, Mme., 53, 54, 95, 123, 
132, 136, 144 ; her criticism of Ba- 
jazet, 183, 281 

Sisters of Charity, 294 

Sobieski, John, 94 

Soissons, de, Comte, 187-194 

Soissons, de, Comtesse, 77 

Soissons, Madame, mother of M. 
le Comte, 193 

Somaize, 113 

Sons of the nobility, the, 37, 38 

Sorbonne, the, 56 

Soul of the nation (national soul), 24S 

Spain, 81, 83, 194, 212, 213, 219, 
255 ; literature of, 98, 156 ; influ- 
ence upon the Court of France, 
III; alliance with, 248; "Envoy" 
of, 255 ; King of, 303, 379, 380 

" Spanish money," 62 

State, the, 17 ; importance of 
women in, 44; "the obstacle," 
the French cavalier's opinion of, 
102 ; shield and the sword of, 
229 ; creditors of, 31S ; magis- 
trates attempt to pacify, 351 



448 



Index 



Statesmen, the nation's, 37 

Strowski, Fortunat, 285 

Strozzi, Marechal, 134 

Students of Philosophy {see An- 

toine Godeau) 
Success, 246 
Supervisor (of the national finances), 

37 „ ^ 

" Sur-homme, 178 
Suze, 25 

Swans' Pond, 23 
Sweden, King of, 33, 34, 407 
Sweden, Queen of, 347 



Tacitus, 54 

Tallemantdes Reaux, 114, 118, 119, 
121, 128, 131, 132, 143, 149 

Talon, Omer, 31, 37, 328, 423 

Tarascon, 2ig 

Te Deum, 76, 336 

"Temple, the" {see Salon Ram- 
bouillet) 

Theatre (the comedy or play), 155, 
156, 164, 165, 168 

"The Elect," 196 

" The Humanities," igS 

The indulgent Abbe, 217 

The Innate Idea {see Vicomtesse d'- 
Auchy) 

Theleme, the Abbey of, 230 

" The Manly Passions " and " Mon- 
sters of the Will" {see Corneille 
and Nietzsche and 195) 

The Press, 64 

Thessaly, 150 

The Terror, 412 

Thou, de, Fran9ois August, born 
1607, died 1642, son of Thou 
the historian, friend of Henry 
d'Eiifiat de Cinq-Mars, and Confi- 
dant of Madame la Duchesse de 
Chevreuse, 223-225 

Tivoli, fountains of, 150 

Toledo (Bishop of), 196 

Tour de Nesle, 342 

Tours, 76, 155, 156 

Toury, 400 

Treasury, the National, 308, 351 

Treatise on the dramatic play 
(Prince de Conti), 160, 161 

Treaty, peace (the Peace of West- 
phalia), 354, 355 



Trissotin, 47, 127 

Tuileries, the. 13, 22, 23, 29, 60, 

78, 156, 158, 221, 249, 253, 260 
Turenne, de, 247, 380, 387, 398, 

408, 413, 414 

U 

Urfe d'Honore, 92-95, 98-101, 104, 
106, 109-111, 124, 157, 167, 168, 
170, 288, 289 

Usson, d', Chateau, 108 



Vadius, 131, 132 

Val-de-Grace, 81, 83, 84 

Valette, de la. Cardinal, 149, 150, 

152 
Valois, the, 13, 96, 97 
Vanini, 279 
Vaugelas, 138 
Veille rue du Temple, 165 
Vendomes, the, 232 
Vengeance, 177 
Venus, son of, 168 
Verdue, de, Mme., 113, 114 
Versaillais, the, 332 
Versailles, 92; the Minerva of, 2 
Vice and Virtue, 279 
Vieuville, de, Marquis, 62 
Vigeau, de. Mile., 149, 377 
Ville I'Eveque, 25 
Villepreau, 118 
Villette, la, 151 
Vincennes, 13 ; Wood of, 74 
Virgil, 54 
Virtue, 254 
Vivienne, rue, 396 
Voiture," Little," 133-136,140, 144- 

146, 150, 152 

W 

Warren, Rabbit, 23 

Westphalia, Peace of , 246, 354, 355 

Wisdom, 71 

Wives (of the Bourgeoisie), 375 

"Wives, Fish-" (of the Halles), 374 

Y 

Yveteaux, de, M. (" d'Yveteaux "), 
12S 

Z 
Zoroaster, 56 



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